


The Lights in the Shadow

by aleski525



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, Not Beta Read, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleski525/pseuds/aleski525
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel Trevelyan is a young woman sent to the Conclave for a last shot at "redemption" in the eyes of her noble family. Past antics had rendered her a pariah among nobility and a local legend among the common folk of Ostwick. Sent to live with a sketchy uncle after a particularly scandalous event she learned to swear like a sailor and bar brawl with the best of them. Her back alley style combined with a heart full of concern for the common folk will make her quest to save the world from the hole in the sky that much more interesting. May eventually up the rating to Mature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **EDIT** Because chapters 2&3 were really short I combined them all, which I had originally intended to do but wanted to see actual progress. Writing a story is a lot like knitting a complex pattern, it is really hard to see your progress. So here is the much longer Chapter One. Next chapter will have Solas, Varric, smarm and a Supernatural reference (because I'm not a big enough nerd yet).
> 
> Also Rachel fights like a drunken sailor.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. The smell of decay and dank was over whelming and she struggled to her feet. Everything around her seemed familiar and foreign at the same time. The ground beneath her boots was soft like a marsh one summer away from drying up completely. The air around her was thick with a sickly green fog. She looked around to see where the light shining through the mist was coming from. Maybe she could orient herself if she could just find that light. Squinting up she realized it was hopeless, whatever the light source was, it hung directly overhead and offered her no bearing. The mist swirled around her and thinned for a moment revealing what looked like an abandoned path. Seeing no option she began to follow it. There was no breeze but the mist suddenly cleared to reveal a steep, dilapidated staircase. At the top was a figure, it emitted a bright green glow that cut through the mist as a strong wind across a plain would. She started towards the staircase and made it only a few steps when she heard the awful noise. She turned to see huge spiders, demonic in appearance with sharp angles and too many eyes even for a spider. Their pincers clacked together and they emitted a hungry hissing sound as they emerged from the mist looking for a meal. They were everywhere except in front of her, and so she ran straight for the staircase ahead. Her feet slipping in spots of mud. The top of the staircase was almost in reach and the glowing figure, a woman, reached out to her. Her foot slipped on the slick stair and she fell. She grunted as she felt a rib crack against the sharp stone and yelped when she felt one of the demon spider grasp at her leg. She lashed out with a fierce kick and hit the beast in one of its eyes, making an awful squishing sound. The creature reared back and screeched its anger and pain, relinquishing its hold on her. She used everything in her to scramble up the last few stairs and threw her hand into the woman’s grasp. Suddenly she was on her hands and knees, her lungs filled with smoke and ash and her nose was flooded with the acrid smells of seared flesh and burning hair. It was too much for her to take, and her stomach heaved, spewing sick upon the jagged rocks below her. She crawled away from the mess and collapsed, the last thing she was aware of was a stabbing, burning pain in her hand. She heard a handful of voices off in the distance but resigned herself. Her already blurred vision swam, sprouted tiny white dots and went black.

“. . . Don’t know if she will. . .”

“I said do something!”

“I am trying Seeker”

“Try harder or so help me Maker I’ll arrest you and beat her back into consciousness!”

She could only hear fragments of the conversations, the voices kept fading in and out; as though she were repeatedly having her ears forced underwater while listening. There were more muffled voices and words before she could hear again. The same person she’d heard first spoke again and she tried to place his accent. “I will go see Master Adan, I need more herbs.”

“You do that mage.” The second voice, a woman with a thick accent, snapped back. Her hearing faded out again and this time did not return.

She walked in the lush gardens of her grandparent’s country property. It was a modest place, the house small for a noble family and very well kept. The gardens here though were her favorite. Narrow flagstone paths winding through beds thick with fragrant, brilliantly colored flowers. Hedges tucking everything neatly away so that the world outside all but disappeared from existence; leaving nothing but the soft rustle of wind through the leaves and the far off trickle of water from a fountain, or the river that ran along the estate. She closed her eyes and bent to take in the heady scent of roses, but the scent that greeted her was foul. When she opened her eyes again it wasn’t a rose before her but an arm, burned, its hand twisted in agony. The smell was acrid burning flesh, all around her there were bodies strewn about in different states of dismemberment and burning. There was shrill screaming that she couldn’t seem to block out no matter how hard she pressed her hands to her ears. The roar of fire and screaming voice reached a crescendo and suddenly the smell and sight were gone and she stared up at a stone celling. Her breathing was hard and gasping and she could hear the sound of boots slapping stone quickly followed by the clunk and clang of a door being opened. A man with a dark beard appeared in her vision along with a younger man whose face was mostly obscured by a helmet. “Recruit, go tell The Seeker that her prisoner is awake.” He turned back to her, his face holding a scowl “What is your name?” She tried to answer but her voice caught in her parched throat and it came out a garbled mess of sound. The older man rolled his eyes and helped her sit up as she realized for the first time her hands were in manacles. Once she was sitting up he offered her a drink from a deep wooden cup. The water was stale and had an unpleasant bitterness to it, but it was still wet and she drank greedily. “Now I’ll ask again. What is your name girl?” the man demanded.

She squeezed her eyes tight, remembering anything was a struggle. Then she found it, tucked close to the surface in her mind “Rachel” she said with a small feeling of relief “My name is Rachel Trevelyan.” Another guard came in and pulled her to her feet and escorted her out of the cell. He led her down the hall and let her sink to her knees in the center of the room. The walls were lined with guards all staring at her.

The man who had led her here drew a dagger and held it to her cheek “The Seeker will be down here to question you soon. You best not move a muscle or try to escape from here. If you do all of us here will be happy to gut you like the murdering wretch you are. Am I understood missy?” his voice was harsh and angry. Instead of replying Rachel simply nodded and lowered her eyes to the floor.

Hadn’t the man said only a moment? It seemed like it had been an eternity. Her head was still foggy as she struggled to remember something, anything about what had happened; but there were distinct, gaping holes in her memory that prevented any progress. She tried once more, straining to remember what had put her here, the harder she concentrated thee sharper the pain in her hand became until suddenly there was a distinct sparking noise and she looked down to see her mark flaring bright green, sparks and trails of energy danced across her palm, around her hand and up her arm. _Magic._ Her thoughts were interrupted by the slamming open of a door and the subsequent appearance of two women. One in full armor with the blazing eye of The Maker emblazoned on her chest plate. The other in a long split chainmail shirt that looked more like a dress than armor. A dark hood hid her head and most of her features from sight. There was something oddly familiar about them, as though she had seen them. The woman in armor circled her like a predator, Rachel refused to feel like prey but her bound and helpless state combined with her swimming head made it almost impossible.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” She finally spoke, her voice thick with a Navarran accent. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead, except for you.”

That was it! She had been at The Conclave, a peace summit called by The Divine to end the Mage & Templar War currently threatening most of Thedas. “Wait what do you mean everyone’s dead?” The two women simply glared at her in the dim light.

The seeker reached out and grabbed her wrist when her hand began sparking again “Explain this!” she demanded.

“I don’t know what that is! Or even how I got it!” Rachel’s voice was earnest as the realization dawned on her that everyone in this room believed her to be a mass murderer.

“You’re lying!” The woman’s voice cracked with emotion as she lunged towards Rachel. The hooded woman moved herself between them and held her counterpart back.

“We need her Cassandra!” the woman said trying to calm her friend down.

“All those people. They can’t possibly all be dead! There must have been survivors! Others who managed to. . .” Rachel’s voice trailed off, she couldn’t force the words out around the tight lump collected at the back of her throat.

“Do you remember what happened?” The hooded woman asked, her voice had a soft Orlesian accent to it. “How this all began?”

Rachel closed her eyes and tried to think back. She remembered the green fog, the musty putrid smell. She reached farther back, but in truth she couldn’t even remember the beginning of the Conclave. Her memory, apart from the brightest moments were so hazy she could barely make them out. “I remember running, there were. . .” Rachel felt suddenly foolish admitting that she’d been running from spiders “Things, things were chasing me and then,” Rachel closed her eyes once more and saw, clear as day the figure reaching out to her “a woman”.

“A woman?” The Orlesian sounded shocked but was cut off by Cassandra “Go to the forward camp Leliana. I will take her to the rift.” Leliana did not argue, simply nodded and turned on her heel to exit the room.

“Wait” Rachel pleaded. Leliana paused and looked over her shoulders “Were there truly no other survivors? Not one?” Leliana and Cassandra exchanged glances before replying with a simple ‘No’. Rachel felt like her heart was being crushed. She shut her eyes and fought back the bile rising in her throat. She reopened them when Cassandra began unlocking the manacles around her wrists. Rachel spoke, her voice cracking “What did happen?”

Cassandra regarded her for a moment, her face a dark scowl, and seemed to be trying to read something in her soul. “It. . .” She began, helping Rachel to her feet and exchanging the manacles for rope “Will be easier to show you” Cassandra turned to exit indicating that she should follow. Maker have mercy she tried, but the position she had been in made her muscles scream and she only made it a few steps before faltering and falling with a grunt. Were it not for her captor’s swift reflexes Rachel would have received a face full of stone floor and dirt as a reward. Instead Cassandra helped her back to her feet wordlessly and this time helped support some of her weight until her legs remembered how to walk properly. Rachel thanked Cassandra for the needed support, her response was a terse nod before opening the chantry door and leading Rachel into the blinding light of day.

The cold mountain air felt so refreshing on her face, her eyes were closed and but she could feel light flakes of something landing on her face and in her hair. She heard a distant thundering and looked up, her expression breaking into shock. 

Cassandra was watching her closely, she moved her bound hands up to wipe the flakes away from her face; her expression changing to horror as she realized what it was: ash. The explosion had sent up a plume of fire and the ashes from what had burned now floated in the air like grey snow. Cassandra herself tried not to think about what or who these ashes were from. Many in attendance had simply burned in seconds leaving behind only a few charred bones. A pang of sorrow and guilt over her own survival gnawed at her insides at the thought. She noticed the prisoner turning her eyes towards her noting the fear and wondering if her shock was real or not. Looking back at the gaping hole in the sky with its sickly green hue and magically floating rubble. Cassandra spoke “We call it The Breach, a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It isn’t the only such rift, just the largest.” She needed a breath to steady her voice “All were created in the explosion at The Conclave”  
Rachel returned her gaze to Cassandra “An explosion can do that?”

“This one did” Cassandra replied moving closer to her charge. “Unless we act” she continued her tone grave “The breach may grow until it swallows the world”.

A thundering blast resounded from the breach as it shot a large bolt of energy into the ground below it and the deep green mark on Rachel’s hand sparked to life. The sudden pulse of foreign power shot up her arm in searing pain. Rachel let out cry as the pain brought her to her knees; cradling the hand against her stomach as the intense spasm and burning sensation continued. Then sensation began to fade just as quickly as it had come on. She looked up to see Cassandra take a knee in front of her and regain her attention.  
“Each time the breach expands your mark spreads, and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time.” Cassandra’s voice was intense as she waited for Rachel’s response.  
Rachel looked from Cassandra to the breach and back again. Then after the briefest pause she said with a nod “I understand”. 

Cassandra looked hesitant “Then. . .”

Rachel responded before Cassandra even finished the question “I’ll do what I can. Whatever it takes.” She’d always had a strong will, stronger when it came to helping people who needed it. Now it seemed everyone needed help and Rachel wouldn’t back down, the fact that she didn’t actually have a choice went entirely forgotten as her resolve solidified. She met Cassandra’s eyes with honest determination and the warrior’s expression just barely portrayed her approval of such an attitude. Cassandra got to her feet and helped pull Rachel to hers, giving a moment to steady herself before leading her through the main path of the village and camp outside the Chantry where she had been imprisoned. The people in the tents muttered angrily and pointed at her. Glares and sneers on all the faces, she heard one man call her a murderer, another called her a monster.  
Cassandra’s hand rested on her back as she led her towards the gates “The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justina, Head of the Chantry.” Cassandra’s voice cracked as she remembered the woman she had sworn to protect “The Conclave was hers, it was a chance for peace between Mages and Templars” Cassandra couldn’t help the heavy sigh that escaped her as she remembered the horrors of the last few years “She brought their leaders together, now they are dead. We lash out like the sky but we must think beyond ourselves as she did. Until the breach is sealed” Cassandra had to catch her breath, she could feel the knot of sorrow in her throat and needed a moment to clear it. It would not do for her prisoner to see her emotional state. They crossed through the woods and another gate as Cassandra led her prisoner onto a large stone bridge and turned to face her. She drew a knife and noted that the young woman flinched back slightly. Cassandra felt some of her own confidence return, at least the woman wasn’t going to prove overly aggressive towards her. “There will be a trial, I can promise no more” she stated as she cut the binds off of Rachel’s wrists “Come, it is not far”.

Rachel instinctively stretched her sore wrists and looked around as Cassandra turned to walk towards the gate at the far end of the bridge. Finally she asked “Where are you taking me?” But she received no answer. Cassandra simply continued walking, so with an annoyed and weary sigh Rachel trotted along behind the taller woman, feeling like a beckoned puppy.  
They exited the tall plain gate and started up a path when they saw a group of foot soldiers running towards them. As the two parties passed Rachel could hear one of the men panicking “Maker it’s the end of the world!” as he ran by. She watched them over her shoulder before turning her attention forward with a shudder. She looked at the stern woman walking next to her on the right and debated for a moment on making conversation. She wanted to say something witty, something that would ease the tension. That was how she operated, break the ice and pretend everything was ok. Yet even with her darkest sense of humor there was nothing funny or witty about any of this. Hundreds had just been needlessly slaughtered and everyone she had set eyes on since waking up believed that she was responsible. They were halfway to the next bridge when there was another pulse from the breach and Rachel once again found herself on her knees, her hand twitching and cramping unnaturally. Cassandra leaned down and helped her back up “The pulses are coming faster now” she said, a bit of sympathy leaking through her seriousness. Rachel saw the flash of kindness before the other woman gave her an awkward slap on the shoulder and nodded for them to continue.

They hastened to the gated bridge at the top of the steep incline. Cassandra had stopped to speak with one of the soldiers. They were just about to depart when the stones beneath their feet shook violently and a blast of fade energy flew from the breech, smashing into structure and sending them rolling to the ground below. Cassandra was on her feet first, her weapon and shield drawn a wraith bursting forth from a black, bubbling ooze left by the fade burst. “Stay behind me!” Cassandra shouted back to her as Rachel struggled to catch her breath and push the pain in her side away. 

Cassandra had already charged to attack the creature when Rachel saw the same bubbling ooze forming only a few feet in front of her. Rachel looked around for something she could defend herself with and saw the hilt of a sword peeking out from under some rubble. She rushed over and pulled it from the debris, the weapon solid and comforting in her grip. The ooze came to a rolling boil and burst with energy knocking her over the pile of debris. She landed hard on something solid and uncomfortable, a simple, round, steel studded shield. She heard the eerie roar of the new wraith and hoisted the shield onto her left arm. She scrambled to the top of the rubble pile and jumped down to face her foe. She banged the front of the shield with the flat of her blade in a petty taunt meant more for her own comfort than to annoy the demon before rushing headlong into the fight. Rachel was a self-taught fighter. Her skills were those required to survive, learned out of necessity while defying her family; and honed when they sent her packing to a distant uncle of questionable character and even more questionable associates. But all those fights had against brutes and bullies, her only blade training came late from a retired guard who had lived in the same village as her uncle. Now though, it was time to make do.

Cassandra struck the final blow on the first demon and whirled around to see the former prisoner flailing about with sword and shield. Her instinct to rush in was suppressed by her astonishment that such piss poor fighting could be effective. Her sword work was sloppy and awkward, more bar brawl than swordplay. Yet what she lacked in finesse she made up for in speed. It was strange and ungainly, but it did the trick. She hacked and bashed at the demon, weakening its hold on the physical realm. Then with one final, awkward press she landed a thrust that went right through the center of the demon’s chest, and sent it roaring back to the fade. Straightening herself Rachel looked up and began walking toward Cassandra; who instinctively raised her sword and demanded that Rachel drop her weapons immediately. Rachel paused a moment and with a slightly annoyed look shrugged.

“Alright, have it your way then” Rachel made a move to put the shield down. As she leaned down though, Cassandra relented.

“Wait” She said with a sigh “I cannot protect you alone, and I can hardly expect you to be defenseless.” The hint of a smile and a slightly raised eyebrow suggested to Cassandra that her charge may not be as defenseless without a weapon as initially believed. “I should remember” Cassandra continued, venturing the smallest of smiles “that you agreed to come willingly”. Rachel didn’t bother hiding her smile this time. Sliding the blade into the leather hanger on her belt she nodded to Cassandra and the two of them set off.

They had to cross a frozen pond to reach the path again and Rachel couldn’t resist the urge to shuffle and slide around on the ice. She paid for her merriment by losing her balance and falling face first into a snow bank. Cassandra couldn’t help but laugh despite herself, the young woman was proving to be quite entertaining. Perhaps under other circumstances the two of them could get along well, but there was no guarantee that she was innocent, nor that she would even live past the day. Cassandra shook her head and helped her red faced companion out of the snow. The breech made another menacing rumble and Rachel winced in pain as the sensation shot up past her shoulder and into her neck. The pain was spreading and it didn’t bode well. The two women exchanged glances before continuing on their way in silence. The good humored smile that had been playing across Rachel’s face had disappeared, replaced by the recollection of how grave the situation she was in was. Cassandra reached out as they walked and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder “It shouldn’t be too much farther.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Varric join the group. 
> 
> YES this fanfic is tagged as Cullen/Trevelyan  
> YES Solas is more affectionate/physically involved with people in this than the game.
> 
> Solas and Rachel become very close friends and they DO flirt occasionally. They do not however become romantically attached (I will save that for off-shoot AUs >.>)
> 
> Also Rachel is a Varric fan-girl and a nerd.

They could hear the fight long before they saw it. “We have to get up and help them” Cassandra called over another surge from the breech. Together they dashed up the slick stone steps and straight into the fray at the top. Rachel barely had time to register who their allies were “Don’t hit anything that isn’t a demon” she told herself as she swung hard at a shade. From the corner of her eye she saw a mage, swing his staff shooting forth a burst of ice magic into the demon in front of him. Without thinking she lunged. The mage took a step back, thinking she might be after him, but she rushed past and slammed her entire body, shield first into the shade that was behind him. He had sensed the creature’s presence and had been about to attack it. Yet he watched in amazed confusion as this strange young woman barreled into the demon with all the finesse of a drunken gurn. He couldn’t argue with her reckless effectiveness though as she planted her sword squarely into the demon’s face and pinned its physical form to the ground, pulling out a dagger and stabbing it through the chest where the heart would be. It evaporated into the jagged glowing tear above them. 

The elven mage rushed over and grabbed her wrist, forcing Rachel to her feet and dragging her towards the rift. “Quickly! Before more come through!” He raised her marked hand palm out towards the tear and sent a surge of his own mana through her arm, kick starting a most unusual process. Every nerve in her body humming and ringing with a foreign feeling as a jet of green lightening shot from the mark and connected with the rift. She felt as though something were draining out of her, as the jet of green light flowed into the rift and began to stitch it shut. She felt panic rise in her chest and wanted to pull away, but the mage held her steady. She felt her body begin to shake and her vision dimmed, the ringing in her ears grew louder until it reached an unbearable crescendo before coming to a sudden, shocking end. Rachel staggered backwards and would have fallen but the mage steadied her, moving to face her and placing both hands on her shoulders. “Ar dianenem alasnanviam” he spoke, his voice so low that only she could here it. A soft blue glow shone from his hands upon her shoulders and she felt her dizziness dissipate and her senses return. Rachel shook her head slightly, shaking the last of the fogginess from her mind before looking up at the mage again. He was handsome, with stormy blue eyes, fair skin, sharp, strong features and a sleek clean-shaven head. The last thing she noticed were a pair of gracefully pointed ears. 

Rachel glanced down at the mark on her hand before looking back up at him “What did you do?”

“A simple healing spell, nothing more I assure you” he replied with a slight nod.

“Oh no, I figured that. I meant with the mark, and the great green demon-spewing hole. What did you do with those?” Rachel couldn’t help the laughter that crept into her voice.

“Ah, those.” He said stooping down to pick up his staff before turning to face her again “In regards to those I did nothing, the credit is yours.”

Rachel looked down at her left hand and the mark; its dark green color had spread farther and now colored the veins of her forearm. The mage and Cassandra saw her expression darken briefly before she gave them a wry smile and said “Well at least it is good for something other than killing me right? But how, I didn’t actually do anything.”

“Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand.” The mage began “I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the breach’s wake” there was a poignant pause in which he gave Cassandra a slight ‘I told you so’ glance; to which she simply raised an eyebrow “And it seems I was correct”.

“Meaning it could also close the breach itself” Cassandra cut in in stepping forward. 

“Possibly” The mage replied, his voice was civil and good-natured, but still curt. The cool way the two of them stared at each other over her head gave Rachel the odd sensation she’d been between these two before. Then she remembered the fragments of an argument from when she’d been half conscious and was instantly aware of Cassandra’s hand on the hilt of her sword. The mage however didn’t seem inclined to bait the woman further though as he returned his gaze to Rachel and spoke again “It seems you hold the key to our salvation” the elf nodded his head towards her, or maybe it was a bow, either way it was a gesture that Rachel returned.

“Good to know!” A rough voice cut in. It was an accent she recognized immediately, and she turned to greet a fellow Free Marcher “Here I though we’d be ass deep in demons forever” the man speaking finished straightening out his coat sleeves and walked towards them to introduce himself “Varric Tethras: Rouge, Storyteller and, occasionally, unwelcome tagalong” he aid the last part with a very unsubtle wink at Cassandra who made a disgusted growling noise which Rachel was quickly coming to associate as her default reaction to humor. Of course being a Free Marcher herself Rachel knew exactly who Varric was. He was a popular writer and one of her favorites; she’d even met him and his friends once, years ago before he’d written The Tale of The Champion. She’d gotten an autograph and even, through a series of odd events, spent the night drinking with them in the Hanged Man. Not that Varric would remember. She had to remind herself to breathe; she’d had this problem last time. It was only after a few minutes that she suddenly realized everyone was waiting for her to say something. He was Andrastian right?”

“Are you with the Chantry or?” Rachel managed to stammer out. 

The mage laughed out loud “Is that a serious question?”

Varric tried to hide his smirk “Technically I’m a prisoner, just like you”.

“Ah.” Rachel nodded; all the sudden camaraderie had made her forget she was, technically, still a prisoner awaiting trial for mass murder. “Right. Well can’t be worse than being accused of mass murdering a holy order along with a temple full of nobles.” Rachel rubbed the back of her neck, that had sounded much better in her head, despite the choked laughed it roused from the dwarf. “Regardless, that’s a nice, um, crossbow you have there Varric” 

Varric picked up the subject change and ran with it “Isn’t she?” he said with a warm sigh “Bianca and I have been through a lot together and she’s never let me down. She’ll be excellent company in the valley”.

Cassandra stepped forward then to put an end to their friendly albeit, awkward, conversation “Absolutely not” she said firmly “Your help is appreciated Varric but-“

“Have you been in the Valley lately Seeker?” Varric interrupted, wholly unintimidated by her “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.” He stared her down and Rachel watched the entire scene play out with raised eyebrows. She knew that no matter what happened she would never underestimate the man standing in from of her. Rachel wasn’t easily intimidated and Cassandra did a good job on her. After what seemed like an age of staring each other down Cassandra made that disgusted noise and rolled her eyes.

“You should trademark that sound,” Rachel said without thinking, receiving a glare in return from Cassandra as she checked the bodies of a few fallen soldiers for their identification tags and small valuables that could be returned to their families.

The elven mage was chuckling at her comment when he spoke “My name is Solas if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

“He means ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’” Varric said with a nod towards Solas.

Rachel turned to Solas with a small smile “You seem to know a great deal about it all”

“Solas is an apostate,” Cassandra said returning, blood stained tags in hand “Well versed in such matters”. Rachel cringed at the use of the word ‘apostate’ and instinctively moved her body between Solas and Cassandra. 

“Technically all mages are apostates now Cassandra.” Solas placed a hand on the back of Rachel’s shoulder and stepped out from behind her. She turned to look at him and he gave her a kind smile “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the fade, far beyond the experience of any circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can with the breach. After all, if it is not closed we are all doomed, regardless of origin.”  
Rachel’s expression had relaxed, though her stance was still one of protectiveness “And when this is all over?” The question was directed at Solas but her eyes were on Cassandra.

“One hopes those in power will remember those who helped, as well as those who didn’t.” Solas replied. It was a fair remark, and Cassandra’s lack of reaction to the conversation in general allowed Rachel to relax fully once more.

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” Cassandra said brusquely “perhaps it is time we get along to the forward camp? There are people waiting for us there.  
The four of them made their way through the snow and ice. They battled another three groups of demons and had to seal a rift just outside the forward camp. The trek alone would have been draining without the demons, but add them and the rift on and Rachel was exhausted. While she was by no means a rouge using stealth as her weapon, her fights were quick. They were based on necessity not endurance. She was a survivor not a soldier, and by the time she collapsed, head spinning, lungs burning, and arms shaking against a wall inside the camp she had no idea how she was going to manage to seal the gaping hole in the sky. Varric was sitting next to her, holding her up, Cassandra had stayed behind to talk to the gate guards and Solas was arguing, loudly, with someone. Everything sounded like it was underwater and Rachel could only make out a few of the words they were exchanging.

“Needs help. . . Weak. . . Only chance. . . Rifts” Solas shouted

“Not helping. . . Murder. . . Bitch killed. . . Most Holy and . . .” the man behind the table shouted back.

Rachel couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. There was a sharp crashing noise that startled her into opening them again and she saw Cassandra holding the man aloft by his collar and shaking him before dropping him and yelling, but Rachel couldn’t hear anything anymore, like a thick blanket was muffling everything. She closed her eyes again. Something cool was on her forehead, something soft brushed her cheek and something that earthy smelling was just under her nose. Rachel awoke in slow stages. She could smell and taste before anything else. The earthy smell was from elfroot; which was in the potion Solas was holding to her mouth while he supported her against his chest. Her sight was next. They were on the ground; she was reclined against him and covered by several blankets. Varric sat on an upturned crate off to the left wiping demon goo off Bianca. To the right Cassandra and the hooded woman, Lilianna? Arguing with a man in Chantry garb. It was only then, when she felt her face crinkling in disgust at the ‘Brother’, that she realized feeling was returning to her body. Then, with a rush that was almost overwhelming her hearing returned and she felt Solas’s arms brace her as pressed back against him, the deafening wave of sound a shock to her system. 

She groaned softly before asking, “What happened?”

“At a guess?” Solas responded preventing her from sitting up and urging her to finish the drink “You went into shock. The mark itself is magical in origin. You are not a mage and therefore have no mana pool from which the mark can take energy to seal the rifts. The energy to close the rifts must come from somewhere, likely it is consuming first your stamina, next your life, which is why the mark is killing you. With the breach remaining in the sky the drain on your energy through the mark is constant.”

“So if I were a mage I would be fine?”

“Hardly, the mana pool would merely act as a buffer, give you more time. As it stands now, we can buy you some extra time, but not much. Let us hope those three reach a decision quickly”.

“A Chantry Man arguing with two women and coming to a quick decision?” Rachel said raising an eyebrow as she drained her cup “You my friend are obviously not Andrastian. I’m glad to see I’m not the only one.” With that Rachel rose to her feet and stretched sore muscles. “Shall the three of us see if we can speed along the process?” Rachel nodded towards the arguing group and smiled as both her companions rose to their feet in unison. Chantry folk were, in her experience unpredictable and mean. “Varric” she whispered, “If it gets rough can I shoot him?”

“Not in public” he answered under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ar dianenem alasnanviam - "I will replenish you" lit. "I am filling your well"
> 
> Credit and thanks to FenxShiral and all his incredible work on Project Elvhen! if you haven't seen it, go look. Now. Do it. then come back and leave kudos, comments and loves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel talks back to a Grand Chancellor and makes her first big decision!

The man’s robes made him look pompous and ugly; and that was before he opened his mouth. “Ah here they come now” he said, his voice whiney “two prisoners and an apostate”. 

“You’re awake!” Lilianna at least was happy to see her back on her feet. For her Rachel managed a polite half smile. The man still had a chance to redeem himself she told herself. He hadn’t said anything untrue after all. “Chancellor Roderick this is-“ 

“I know who she is” he cut Lilianna off with his rat like voice and his rat like sneer. He turned to Cassandra and promptly sealed Rachel’s opinion of him “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!” 

“You order me?” Cassandra said with a snort “You are a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat!”

“And you are a thug!” he snipped back “But a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry”

“You listen here you pompous windbag in a dress,” Rachel growled loud enough for everyone to hear. “If you think you’re going to wave your fancy hat and skirts around to try and intimidate us remember who’s holding the swords.” Everyone had stopped what he or she were doing and turned to look at the scene unfolding. Looking around she raised her voice to an angry shout “This is the kind of person you would follow? One who is so afraid of woman with a glowing hand that he’d send her off for execution without so much as a breath explanation?” Nobody moved, she was armed and whether any of the soldiers wanted to admit it or not, they feared her. She turned back to Roderick, any reservation she had replaced by indignation on behalf of Lilianna whom he’d interrupted and Cassandra whom he’d insulted “The people around us may serve your Chantry but I do not. Insult either of the ladies again and whether I’m guilty of your accusations or not; by all the gods in Thedas your death at least will be on my hands for certain.”

There was an eerily calm silence as Rachel and Roderick stared each other down. Varric took mental notes. Solas watched with shocked enthusiasm, he’d never witnessed a human, common or noble stand against a member of the Chantry before. But it was Lilianna who broke the silence “We serve the most holy” she said, the comment was directed at Rachel who narrowed her eyes slightly at Roderick before giving her attention to the redheaded woman. It was a silent promise not to come to blows with the man. “As you well know Chancellor,” she said her voice turning curt as she addressed Roderick.

“Justinia is dead!” the unpleasant man pointed out emphatically “We must elect a replacement and obey her orders on the matter” he insisted. 

It was Rachel’s turn to make a disgusted noise “Isn’t closing the giant hole that is currently trying to eat the entire world just a tiny bit more important than fighting over which skirt in Orlais is the most pious of them all?”

“You brought this on us in the first place!” Roderick yelled as he slammed his fist on the table in front of him.

Rachel rubbed her forehead; she was angry and took a deep breath to calm herself. She wasn’t being reasonable, and she had to remind herself that these were real people’s beliefs. “Ser, Chancellor, I’m not saying that finding your new Divine isn’t important, it certainly is. But if we don’t close that hole up there,” she pointed to breach that was currently belching out another round of demons “there won’t be anyone left to rule over, let alone elect.”  
Cassandra stepped forward to stand beside Rachel and Roderick spoke, his voice had dulled to a calm, tired tone “Call a retreat Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

“We can stop this before it’s too late” Cassandra replied her tone was insistent and Rachel was reassured, no way was this woman going to let this subject simply go by the wayside.

“How?” Roderick held up his arms, the question in his voice this time held no sarcasm “You won’t survive long enough to reach what remains of the temple, even with all your soldiers”

“We must get there” Cassandra replied matter-of-factly “And straight through the valley is the quickest route.”

“But not the safest” Lilianna interjected “Our forces could charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains”

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path Lilianna” Cassandra said looking up at the snow-covered peak “It’s too risky, for all we know it could be worse than the valley.” 

“Listen to me” Roderick pleaded frustration clear in his voice “abandon this now, before more lives are lost!”

The breach let out large blast of energy and shook the ground, setting off Rachel’s mark. The pain was so much worse than before. She could feel the pain spreading all the way into her shoulder and up her neck. Her arm shook violently and all she wanted to do was fall to the ground, yet she resisted. She refused to show weakness in front of the people she had just challenged a few moments ago. As soon as it had come on the episode passed and she stood up straight again, trying to rub the lingering ache out of her hand and wrist. She looked around her, everyone stared, but it was different, as though in the single moment of fighting pain they saw her differently, even the Chancellor looked at her strangely. 

Cassandra faced Rachel fully and asked, “How do you think we should proceed?”

Rachel couldn’t keep the irony out of her voice “Now you’re asking what I think?”

“You have the mark” Solas piped up for the first time since the conversation had started.

“And you are the one we must keep alive. Since we cannot agree on our own” Cassandra trailed off and raised her hand in a gesture that indicated Rachel. Then the gravity of the situation dawned on her. What she decided now, whatever she chose, would affect lives. People could, and likely would die, based on her decisions. She looked off down the valley for a moment. Speed would be preferable, Solas had told her she needed to hurry, and her life was at stake. That route would call for a long, sustained assault though, how many lives would be lost protecting her when she succumbed to her lack of endurance?

“How many soldiers are we looking at losing if we fight through the valley?” She asked Lilianna.

“Fifty? A hundred? Maker only knows how many demons will be down there.”

“And if they charge while we head for the mountains?”

“If they are simply charging as a distraction they don’t need to keep formation, they can escape, they can retreat. Casualties would be at a minimum.”

With the information given it took little time for Rachel to decide. “We’ll take the path through the mountains. Enough lives have been lost today, I’m not a soldier, I can’t fight a sustained battle and I won’t put anyone else at risk because of me. Not today.” Cassandra shook her head disappointed with the choice and Rachel reached out to give her arm a friendly slap “Look on the bright side Seeker, maybe we will find your missing scout party roasting some unsuspecting mountain goat.” Lilianna and her group were packed and ready to go first. There were two roads through that particular mountain, her and her people would go the outer road and Cassandra, Solas, Varric and Rachel would go through an old mining complex. 

The road up the mountain was cold and slippery. The mining complex was full of demons and on the other side of the mountain they discovered the bodies of half the scouting party. “Well it doesn’t look like they’re eating mutton” Varric commented sadly.

“That cannot be all of them” Cassandra said as she knelt beside one of them.

Rachel knelt beside a young woman, her eyes were still open and her abdomen had been ripped wide open by something with sharp claws “Look at this, there is steam rising off the corpse, they haven’t been dead long, the others might still be alive! Come on let’s move!” Rachel took off trading running for skidding down the steep slope, her companions hot on her heels, never missing a beat. They arrived at the rift just in time to see a one of two large tree-like beasts swipe its massive claws and send one of the remaining scouts hurtling over a cliff. Without thinking Rachel grabbed a rock and hurled it at the head of one that had cornered three other scouts. It made a hollow “thunking” noise as it hit the demon in the head and bounced to hit the one next to it as well. Both creatures turned slowly to look at her, only then did it occur to her that it might have been a bad idea.

The battle was hard won but they managed to defeat the last wave of demons sustaining only minor cuts and bruises. Solas inspected the area before turning to Rachel who was still rubbing her shoulder, the constant ache of the mark having spread to engulf her entire arm at this point. “Sealed as before, you are becoming quite proficient at this,” he told her encouragingly as they approached the remaining scouts. The small group of survivors was in far worse condition than Rachel and her companions. They looked drained and most of them were badly injured.

“Thank goodness you arrived when you did Lady Cassandra” the leader of the party said, struggling to her feet “those demons would have had us otherwise.”

Cassandra shook the lithe woman’s hand and cocked her head towards Rachel “Thank our prisoner Lieutenant, she was the one who insisted we come this way.”

“The prisoner?” she replied baffled “Then you-“

“It was worth saving you if we could” Rachel replied simply. She didn’t want thanks or praise, after all who knew what part she’d played in the events prior to these, “Please, just make sure you get back to the camp in one piece”.

“The way back should be clear for now. If you and your men hurry you should be able to make it before anymore demons come through” Cassandra said. Then turning to Rachel she said “Come, the temple is not far.”

Rachel shook hands and offered the scout leader some of her healing potions, which were refused. The leader insisting that Rachel and her group would need them more. Rachel had know it would be bad, over a thousand people died in a single fiery blast, but nothing could have prepared her for the true horror. She smelled it before she saw it. The choking, acrid smell of burnt hair. The stomach churning smell of seared flesh. Then she saw it: a field of rubble littered with corpses, charred and twisted into agonizing unrecognizable shapes. Some were half standing, buried waist deep in the rubble still burning. Her head spun with the sheer monstrosity of it all, then there was a crackling sound and the arm of a burning corpse fell off. It was all she could take. She fell to her knees, doubled over and vomited on the stones below her. 

Her companions said nothing, after all in the face of such horror what was there to be said? Ahead of them was a field of death and destruction. Entire families wiped out in the blink of an eye. For Cassandra some of them had been life long friends that were now unidentifiable. Melted, twisted into silent screams of agony. Their final testament to the world would be one of misery, pain, suffering and death. Cassandra wondered then for the first time who it was Rachel had known here. She was a noble woman after all and would not have come alone. 

When her stomach finally stopped heaving Rachel rose shakily to her knees again, her face pale from the sudden bout of sickness. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked over to see Varric standing next to her, her didn’t say anything, just handed her a handkerchief and let her wipe her mouth off with it. Nobody said anything when she got to her feet, or when they started moving again. They simply left it for what it was, a little pile of sick in a field of horror.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel proves to be ungraceful but good fun, seals a big rift and has a really bad headache.

The site of the explosion was eerie. Where temple walls had once stood proud now were jagged ruins, stone that had been heated and cooled so quickly that it had formed into long jagged spikes protruding at odd angles. “The Temple of Sacred Ashes” Solas stated, a distant sadness in his voice as Rachel approached one of the rocky outcrops.

“What’s left of it” Varric added as they continued through the rubble, trying to be careful not to step on any body parts. A loose stone moved and something cracked under Rachel’s boot. She froze and her stomach growled, threatening to heave again. She hazarded a glance down and let out a relieved sigh when it wasn’t human. She knelt down and moved the stones aside to reveal the charred remains of an amulet. 

The four of them turned a corner and there it was. A gaping hole in the ground 20 feet down where the temple should have been. Rachel walked slowly forward, her jaw dropping with every step; the sheer scale of the destruction was unlike anything she had ever seen. She stood now on a precipice, the crumbling remains of stone bannister the only barrier between her and the edge. “The Breach is a long way up” Varric said craning his neck to a ridiculous degree to stare at the sky.   
Rachel let her gaze drift up, the swirling vortex above them seemed to stretch into eternity, as though there were no bottom to it. A large rift stretched hundreds of feet from the bottom of the pit before them, though at the moment it was calm. Something about this place stirred something in the back of Rachel’s mind, the itch of memories she couldn’t quite locate.

“You made it!” Leliana called out, catching sight of them and rushing over “Thank the Maker, we had begun to worry you wouldn’t. The Commander was relieved at our choice to go through the mountain pass.”

“Did he lose anyone?” Cassandra asked quickly.

“A few injured, no dead, nothing some time and elfroot won’t cure. It was the best news he’d received all day I wager.” She replied. There was an eager undertone to her voice that had been absent before. She turned to Rachel and nodded “You made the right call, many of those men and women owe you their lives”. Rachel didn’t respond but for a slight nod back, this place made her dizzy, and tired. 

“Leliana have your men take up positions around the temple, we will head to the bottom in just a moment.” Then turning to Rachel “This is your chance to end this, are you ready?”

Rachel looked at Cassandra, trying to hide her sudden exhaustion. “I will” she began and her vision swam, she staggered and both Cassandra and Solas grasped a shoulder each to steady her. “I’ll try” repeated “ but I don’t know if I can reach that, let alone close it” Rachel said, nodding to the intimidating rift.

“No” Solas agreed as he released a small knot of invigorating energy into her body “this rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and we may be able to seal the breach itself”.

Cassandra released Rachel abruptly as she regained her stability “Then let’s find a way down there; and be careful, who knows when it will decide to spew more demons at us.” The search for a path down to the rift was difficult and at one point Rachel lost her footing and started sliding, then tumbling down the rocky trek until a strong grip at the back of her collar stopped her just short of crashing face fist into something red and glowing. The grip on her collar yanked her backwards and she found herself sitting on the ground next to Varric. Her dwarven companion looked warily at the red protrusions, they looked familiar and then it dawned on her where she’d seen it’s like before. “Seeker!” he called out, his voice anxious “This stuff over here, you know its Red Lyrium?”

“I see it Varric” Cassandra replied, her voice just as tense as his.

“What in flames is it doing here though?” he asked, he grip on the back of Rachel’s shirt tightening.

“Magic could have drawn upon Lyrium beneath the ground, changing its makeup” Solas offered approaching to take a look as well.

Varric seemed to suddenly remember he was still holding on to Rachel’s collar “Whatever you do” he said to her, offering his hand to help her steady herself as she regained her feet “Don’t touch it. The stuff is evil, it will drive you crazier than an inbred nug.” Rachel finished dusting her knees off and the four of them turned to continue on when a voice, deep and bodiless echoed through the ruins.

“Keep the sacrifice still” it said, its tone filled with calm malice.

“Somebody please! Help me!” the echo of a woman’s voice followed quickly before the place lapsed into silence once more. Both Varric and Rachel stood frozen in their steps, looking around for the source of the voices. 

Cassandra was the first to speak. “That was Divine Justinia’s voice!” she, unable to hide the shock in her voice.

When they finally dropped down into center of the temple ruins Leliana and her people were already waiting. The she looked to Cassandra worriedly “Cassandra, my scouts are reporting clusters of red Lyrium in the ruins.”

“We saw some as well on our way down. “ she replied. Solas and Varric had already come to her side but their last companion was nowhere to be seen. The three of them noticed the strange look on Leliana’s face and turned to see Rachel, struggling. It looked like she had planned to scoot down on her rear then lost her nerve. Now she clung awkwardly, with one leg and both arms, to the edge of the rock wall until she finally lost her grip and fell with an ungraceful thud into the dusty rubble a few feet below her.

She got up slowly and Varric couldn’t help himself “Behold” He shouted in his most imperious tone throwing his arms up “The one who holds the key to our salvation!”. Rachel looked surprised for a moment and then quickly took a flourishing bow. Leliana and Solas chuckled, accompanied by a few of the scouts around them. Cassandra shook her head and tried to glare at the smiling dwarf.

Rachel finished her bow and started towards them. It wasn’t her best entrance she thought looking around, but then again it was not her worst either. She finished brushing the dust off of herself before turning to Solas with a grin “Right. Well. Now what?”

As they drew near to the rift Rachel noticed a ringing in her ears that was slowly becoming painful. A few steps more and it reached a breaking point. She slapped a hand over one of her ears and cried out just as the mark on her hand sparked to life and reacted with the rift. The same exchange they’d heard before took place but there was more to it this time, and ghostly green shapes appeared in the rift.  
“Someone help me!” the divine called out

“What’s going on here?” Rachel’s disembodied voice echoed.

“That was your voice” Cassandra said watching as Rachel regained her feet holding the side of her head staring down at her mark. “Most Holy called out to you but-“

They were interrupted by a surge from the rift. The vague shapes took form and suddenly in the green mist Rachel out see herself, high above them, standing in an entryway “What’s going on here?” her image repeated.

“Run while you can! Warn them!” the Divine called out, her voice fearful.

“We have an intruder” a deep voice said, there was no visible body to go with it, just dark shapes “Kill her”.

“You were there!” Cassandra exclaimed rushing up to grab Rachel by the shoulders, spinning her around to face forward “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she? Is this vision true? What are we seeing?”

Rachel flinched under the volume of Cassandra’s voice, her head felt like it was splitting open here “I told you, I don’t remember” she yanked away from Cassandra, and tried to put some distance between herself and the rift.”

“Echoes of what happened here.” Solas said calmly “With the veil so badly damaged the Fade bleeds into this place. The bits we are hearing are likely a result.” He replied looking up towards the breech “this rift is not sealed but it is closed, if we can seal this rift properly we can stabilize the breech and keep it from growing any larger.”

In retrospect, Rachel through as she flew through the air, it was probably a good thing she didn’t realize what opening the giant rift was going to do. If she had known that when they said opening and properly sealing the rift meant a gigantic spikey pride demon and a host of wraiths were going to come flying out of it, she may not have done it. If she’d know that the minute that makeshift crystalline seal was gone the temple floor would turn into a pit of hell she likely would have simply let the breech slowly suck the life out of her. Thought and breath were temporarily knocked out of her as her body connected with the ruined wall. It was only a few seconds but it felt like an age before she could drag herself back to her feet and rejoin the fray. Wraith on the right, dodge, spirit hurling green goo ahead drop down. Recruit on the left, foot stuck, pride demon winding up energy whip, nothing for it. She leapt in front of the soldier just in time to take the brunt of the blow with her shield and keep the whip from frying the man. The energy surged through the metal and she could feel the skin on her arm searing where it connected, followed by an unpleasant numbness in the already tingling arm. He got his foot free, grabbed up his sword shouted thanks and took the fight back up. 

Rachel couldn’t move her arms were shaking, her back soaked in sweat, she could barely see an ice blast shattered a wraith behind her and Cassandra grabbed her staggering form out of the way just as another blow from the Pride Demon was about to fall. Her mark was sparking and spitting it’s green magic she could feel it burning just under her skin, she heard the great beast fall to it’s knees. Heard the incoherent shouts of others and knew it was now or never. With all the strength left in her she rose to her knees threw her hand up and with a look that Varric would later call “Defiant Determination” let all her will, every once of strength, thought and focus narrow onto the rift. Slowly at first, then faster and faster until all that could be seen was blinding white-green light the rift sealed. Spots formed of the edge of her vision and everything was dark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finally makes an appearance and Rachel, in true Cullenite fashion, pokes him to make sure he is real.
> 
> Cassandra and Leland take their turn at telling Roderick off.
> 
> Rachel joins the Inquisition.
> 
> And I get to start veering away from Canon! Yay!

She was being jostled by something, someone, big; someone who smelled of leather, oil, sweat and metal. Her flushed cheek rested on something cold, armor? She struggled to open her eyes, to look up, to say something. All she managed was a mangled mumble and a squinting stare; she could just make out a man’s profile against a darkening sky. Rachel tried to move and the man looked down and spoke “Easy now” his voice was calm and gentle “you’ve done enough for one day, we’ll take care of you from here on out.” Her arm brushed against something and sent bolts of burning pain up the limb and she squirmed again. “Apostate, Solas, she’s coming around, the burns are bothering her I expect” Before she knew what was happening the large man was settling her into a pallet on a wagon. Solas was next to her he had some kind of herbal paste at the ready beside him and had summoned a bit of ice in the other. He pressed the ice into a cloth and placed it against the worst area of the burning on her arm, which caused her to flinch and her senses came back sharply. She was laying on the floor of the wagon Solas seated beside her, ready to render what medical assistance he could. Cassandra, Varric Leliana and the soldiers too badly hurt to walk filled the benches. And then the big man who’d been carrying her, he towered over her still, one of his gauntlets caught in a braid pinned at the back of her head. He was handsome; a strong jaw with a hint of stubble, blonde curls neatly swept back and eyes the color of rich summer honey. He had an old scar that cut through part of his top lip but it just made him more handsome. She raised her good arm and with a single finger poked his cheek softly “Gods all preserve us he’s real.” she though she was whispering, but in truth she was shouting, “How can he be real? Nobody is that good looking and real” the entire cart was laughing, and the blond man turned scarlet. He finally freed himself from her hair and managed to climb down. 

“I will meet you back at Haven Cassandra” Commander Cullen called out.

“Yes Commander” Cassandra replied with a nod.

“Goodbye handsome man” Rachel yelled, her words horribly slurred.

“Maker’s breath” Cullen muttered to himself “She certainly took a blow to the head.” Rachel wouldn’t remember the embarrassing encounter the next time they met. But he would, oh he certainly would, despite the rigors of the day and the work left to do, Cullen couldn’t help but smile to himself.  
At some point on the bumpy ride back to Haven Solas gave her something to drink that made her sleep and she didn’t wake up again during the trip. When she did wake up she found her forearm heavily bandaged and her ribs ached. Everything ached, but mostly her ribs. She was rubbing the remaining sleep from her eyes when she heard a startled voice and a box crashing to the floor. Rachel looked up suddenly to see a very frightened young elven woman staring wide-eyed at her “Oh!” the young woman looked from the box back to Rachel “I’m so sorry I didn’t know you were awake I swear it!” She cried falling to her knees pressing her face against the floor.

Rachel made an effort to stand up “No it’s fine, please don’t worry about it, I only-” 

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing my Lady, I am but a humble servant. They say you saved us; the breech stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It is all anyone has talked about for the last three days!” The frightened elf cut in, her voice holding a tremor. Rachel staggered forward but had to catch herself on the back of a nearby chair.

“So you’re saying that they’re what? Happy with me now?” Rachel replied, her head was still foggy and she was having trouble processing what was being said.   
“I’m only saying what I’ve heard my lady, I didn’t mean anything by it.” She stammered in response getting off the floor “I’m sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve awakened, she said at once!”

“Where is she” Rachel asked, rubbing her forehead.

“In the chantry with the Lord Chancellor. At once she said” and without another word the thin woman fled the tiny cabin as though her shoes were on fire.  
Rachel rubbed the back of her neck and sighed, looking down at her left hand. The dark green mark was still visible across her palm and she wondered if it extended up underneath the bandages on her forearm. She stood slowly and looked for her clothes. She found a new outfit set out on the chest at the foot of the bed. She examined them and raised an eyebrow. Grey, mostly silk and close fitting, whoever had selected the outfit, had neglected to consider that her bandage-encased appendages wouldn’t fit in such clothing. She rummaged through the chest until she found some simple, brown leather pants, a belt and a relatively loose fitting shirt in a dark faded green. The clothes were the wrong size, the pants too long, easily solved by tucking them into her boots. The sleeves she rolled up to her elbows she braided and pinned her hair into its usual coil. She sighed and headed out the door.   
The sight that greeted her was horrifying. Masses of people, everyone who had come in support of the Conclave, who had been working with the Chantry, pilgrims, villagers, refugees of the war, all of them lined the street. When she emerged there was a brief silence followed by a wave of murmurings.

“That’s her!” someone said, “That’s the Herald!”

“It’s her, the Herald of Andraste” another spoke out.

“She stopped the breech from getting any bigger!” another voice in the crowd called.

Rachel was walking, maneuvering along the only path clear to her at the moment. Women were weeping thanks to her; men were giving her approving nods and once-overs. It was all very uncomfortable. Suddenly a child came popping out of the crowd and tripped over his own feet. Rachel moved quickly and caught him before he hit the ground. “Are you all right little one?” she asked.

The child nodded shyly and hugged her tight around the neck “you saved my da,” she whispered quietly in Rachel’s ear “Thank you Herald of Andraste” and with that the child took off back into the crowd. 

Rachel got back to her feet and with a confused glance around she continued towards the Chantry. The closer she got the thinner the crowd became, for which she was grateful, their whispers were unsettling. Finally she arrived outside the Chantry and took a seat on a vacant bench outside. She hoped Cassandra wouldn’t be long; she had no desire to go inside.

Rachel wasn’t sure how long she waited outside of the Chantry before someone came up and told her that her presence was being awaited within. Rachel felt the muscles in her jaw tighten into a grim stare that, had she been a mage, likely would have set the place ablaze. She stood stiffly and made her way slowly to the great wooden doors. How long had it been since she’d stepped foot in one of these places? Ten years? Twelve she wondered as she reached out? Fourteen, her mind settled on the number as her hand settled on the door. Fourteen years since she last set foot in a Chantry. Fourteen years since she had faced the Revered Mother in the Ostwick Cathedral and told her that she and her Templars could go and fuck themselves in the middle of their sermon. She had been thirteen years old, her knees still wet with blood from praying on rough flagstone floors for hours without end. She tried to ignore the trembling in her limbs as she pushed hard and the ancient wooden door creaked open. She bit back the bile that rose, heavy and bitter in her throat as her senses were assaulted by the smell of incense and burning tallow candles. To the sisters and brothers mumbling their chants in the dark corners of this place the smell was one of comfort, of home. To Rachel, it smelled only of betrayal; she choked on another whiff of the stale air before steeling herself and remembering how to walk. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time; she wondered briefly where she was supposed to go, her question was quickly answered though. She could hear the argument halfway down the hall and by the time she reached the far door she’d heard enough of the Grand Chancellor’s complaining and slammed the door open, making the man jump. There were Templars on either side of her and she glanced at them uneasily for a moment before setting her gaze on Roderick and crossing her arms in front of her chest, a dare for him to continue. It was bait he took. “Chain her” he called out to the Templars “I want her taken to the Capitol to await trial” 

“Well” Rachel said shrugging “at least now I get my trial-“

“Now!” Roderick cut in.

“You will disregard that order and leave us, both of you” Cassandra ordered the Templars pointing to the door. They bowed to the seeker and departed immediately.   
Rachel had watched the twin towers of armor leave and finally turned back to glare at Roderick “So I’m still a suspect? Even after being hurled around like a sack of worthless potatoes by a pride demon and closing a hundred foot rift?”

“You absolutely are” he replied venomously, his hands on the table in the center of the room returning her glare.   
'  
“No she is not,” Cassandra said, her tone leaving no room for argument “I heard what happened. The Divine called out to her for help.”

“You believe I’m innocent then?” Rachel said looking to Cassandra; she couldn’t help the pleased grin that spread across her features despite her desire to remain hard in the chancellor’s presence.

“Make no mistake, someone is responsible but Seeker Cassandra and I have concluded that you, Lady Trevelyan, are not a suspect” Leliana added positioning herself between Roderick and Cassandra “We will continue to comb through those to benefit directly from her death” she said pointedly giving him a hard look.

“I am a suspect?” Roderick choked on the words and Rachel very nearly felt bad for the man. Rachel was no clairvoyant, but she knew power mongers and corrupt bureaucrats when she met them. Roderick may have all the appeal of an ornery bog fisher but she knew his type, straight as a crossbow bolt. 

“You” Leliana replied crossly, seemed like she’d had enough as well “and many others.” She turned to face Cassandra just as the dark haired woman threw a large, ponderous looking tome onto the table. 

Cassandra placed her hand on it squarely “You know what this is Chancellor?” she said looking up at him and advancing towards him “It is a writ from the divine, it grants us the authority to act in her stead. The breech is stable but remains a threat. She would not have ignored it and neither shall we. We will find who did this, we will find a way to fix it and we will do so with or without your approval do I make myself clear Chancellor?”

If he had anything left to say it died in his throat when a tiny growl escaped Cassandra. He hurried out of the back room in a flurry of white and red robes. Rachel watched him hustle down the hall of the chantry until the door clicked shut again. Then she turned to Cassandra and gave her a approving nod “Well said. I’m glad to hear there is at least some kind of plan.” Her eyes fell on the tome “a writ from the Divine? That sounds, extreme.”

“There have been too many instances of Templars overstepping their bounds. Too many were seeing abominations and threats instead of people. The situation at Kirkwall was proof enough of that for Divine Justinia. After Knight Commander Meredith attempted to murder every mage in the circle she began setting up the Inquisition as privately as she could. We recruited as many in the shadows as we could.” Leliana spoke, her eyes conveyed great sorrow at the loss of the Divine, but her voice was steady “This is the Divines directive, to rebuild the Inquisition of old. She was to announce it officially at the Conclave, an effort to root out those who would harm the innocent. Now we few that remain are left to act in her stead. We aren’t ready.” She shook her head in frustration “We have no numbers, no leader, and now” a frustrated gesture towards the door, “no Chantry support”

“But we have no choice” Cassandra said sternly “We must act. We are the only ones with the means of sealing the breech.” They both looked to Rachel who had still been looking at the book. She looked up at their sudden silence to find them suddenly staring at her. 

“Wha-“ Rachel began, then glancing from one to the other pointed to herself “Me? You want me to join your order?” Then holding out her hands in defense she continued “Look no offense but I was here to represent my family because my father was too sick to make it and my eldest brother’s wife is expecting a baby next week.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation before taking a deep breath and meeting the eyes of the two women before her “I have no interest in being here any longer than I must. I came to represent an interest in the rights of mages, not to join a Holy Order and fight a Holy War founded by a religion that I am not actually an active part of. This, Inquisition,” she gestured toward the writ “isn’t something that I can be involved in.”

“You have the mark” Cassandra said, her tone was firm but Rachel could hear the note of anxiety in it “You are already involved, more than anyone else, whether you have chosen it or not”.

“You saw the people around you on your way to the Chantry yes?” Leliana spoke, her voice soft. Rachel nodded “Most of them are refugees. They are not here because they want to be; they are here because they have nowhere else to go. The fighting left them homeless and this fledgling Inquisition and the Chantry have been the only ones providing for them. You are the first ray of hope they have seen, the first sign of a restored order, in a year.”

“We cannot stop you from leaving” Cassandra continued “But you should know what you will walk away from, and what it will mean. The breech will remain an ever present threat and most of the people here will likely die before the Inquisition gets enough traction to make any kind of difference to them.”

Rachel was silent as she looked from Cassandra to Leliana. There was judgment on neither of their faces. Both of them were so unlike any high-ranking Chantry officials she had ever met. The muscles in her left hand still ached horribly, the mark may have stopped growing but she could still feel it; the strange pain that seemed to sink past flesh, muscle and bone, straight into her very soul. Her eyes were drawn back to the tome, its cover adorned with a flame wreathed eye with a sword driven through the symbol from top to bottom. Her thoughts went to the Solas and Varric, to the scouts the four of them had saved in the pass, the man she’d saved in the Temple ruins, the lives lost in the explosion and those that had yet to be lost. She thought of the little girl who had thanked her for saving her papa, and of the men and women who had smiled down at her in the cart before she lost consciousness on the way back to Haven. Could she leave them all to die here in the shadow of that hole, under the echo of that malicious voice? 

“Is your goal is truly to restore balance, to help the people left behind by those sworn to protect them?” Rachel asked her voice solemn.

“It is” the two women replied in unison.

“Then I will stay, at least until they are safe.” Rachel replied.

Cassandra reached for Rachel’s hand, and then Leliana did the same and they sealed their bargain with handshakes and their first genuine smiles.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel begins to show her colors as a leader (even if she doesn't mean to) and realizes that this may just end up being for life.

Leliana had gone to round up the other two people who would make up the Inquisitions council and Cassandra took Rachel to get fitted by Harrit, the blacksmith, for new gear. She requested a unique armor. It consisted mainly of fine but sturdy chainmail over leather and had individual steel plates riveted in to cover the most vital areas of her chest and abdomen. Once her new gear was ordered they headed back to the Chantry to meet with the rest of the team. Rachel, out of years of habit faltered before going in. Cassandra didn’t miss it. “How long has it been?” she asked “Before today I mean.”

Rachel looked down the long hall “Fourteen years.”

“That is a long time to go without praying” Cassandra said.

Rachel shrugged “My father told me actions always speak louder than words. So instead of whispering the words of a prayer I take action to achieve my goals. I don’t need a Chantry or a Revered Mother behind me to do that.”

The two of them began the long walk to the back chamber and Rachel began to rub the mark, hoping to ease the deep ache a little. Cassandra noted the action and came to a stop. “Does it trouble you? The mark.”

Rachel smiled wryly as she tried to stretch the appendage “Well it may not have finished the whole job but the hole in the sky isn’t actively trying to eat anyone and the mark isn’t consuming my body anymore so that’s always a plus.”

Cassandra nodded and hooked her thumbs into her belt “Yes, you have given us the most important thing: time. Solas believes that with enough power our next attempt will succeed entirely if the mark has enough power. He says it will need the same level of power used to create it, not easy to come by, but given our chances were zero a few days ago we are, as they say, ahead of the game.”

Rachel chuckled loudly the sound echoing though the chantry “Yes let’s just super charge something we know nothing about and hope for the best. What could possibly go wrong?”

Cassandra joined the laughter, it did sound absurd when put like that. When they had their breath back Cassandra spoke again “You have a sense of humor. Hold on to that, I’m sure you will need it to face whatever comes next.” The two of them continued down the hall and into back room from before to greet the others.

Commander Cullen stood behind the large table, which was now filled with maps of Thedas. A well-dressed woman with glossy black hair and dark olive skin was on his left and Leliana stood to his right. Cassandra spoke “Allow me to introduce Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

“Such as they are, we’ve lost a lot of good soldiers, to the war, to the explosion and to the subsequent demons. Though I must say, your decision to use the mountain paths was a prudent one. I’ve been asked by many a soldier, officer and recruit alike, to thank you. A lot of good people got to go home to their families because of that choice.” 

“This is Josephine Montilyet, our Ambassador” Cassandra said introducing the dark haired woman.

“I’ve heard . . . Much” the Ambassador replied, her tone denoted that she knew something of Rachel’s past and Rachel couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re Antivan?” Rachel asked, regaining her composure.

“I-“ Josephine looked over to Leliana and back to Rachel “Yes I am, how did you-“

“I have a sister in-law who is Antivan, I recognize the accent. Her name is Pertessa, and if you call her that now that she’s married to my brother she’ll kill you, it is Tessa or nothing.” Rachel replied, “It’s good to meet you Ambassador Montilyet.”

“Ah, the pleasure is all mine, Lady Trevelyan”

“And of course you already know Leliana” Cassandra said nodding to her friend. Her hood was down for the first time since Rachel had met her and she could see now that she had dark copper colored hair. 

“My position with the inquisition involves a degree of-“

“She is our Spymaster” Cassandra cut in, eager for the formalities to be at an end.

Leliana shot Cassandra an exasperated look, which the warrior returned “Tactfully put as always Cassandra.”

“Fancy titles,” Rachel said with an approving nod “My name is Rachel. You can call me, Rachel. I’m the youngest of six boys so I also answer to “Girl”, but only if I’m feeling generous.” Her comment earned her a snort of mirth from Cullen. “Titles and name calling aside it’s good to meet everyone.” A collective “Likewise” was offered up before Rachel continued. “Now, as much as I’ve enjoyed my stay here and being blown up, I would like to address the hole in the sky, there is a baby on the way back home and I’d like to meet it before it turns five.”

“As I said earlier, we need to fill your mark with enough power to match the breech” Cassandra stated leaning against the edge of the table.

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help in sealing the Breech.” Leliana continued.

“I disagree,” Cullen said immediately “The Templars could serve just as well given enough Lyrium.”

“We need power Commander” Cassandra sighed, it sounded like she’d heard this argument before “Enough magic poured into that mark-“

“Might destroy us and everything around us for miles! We have no idea the state the Mages are in. I was a Templar, I know what they are capable of”.

“Wait, you were a Templar?” Rachel said skeptically. “Past tense?”

“Yes.” The commander stated shifting slightly “As I was saying though, the Templars at least we know are not abominations.”

“So you’re saying that because the mages aren’t in their circles anymore all of them have become abominations?” Rachel’s voice was strained; it was a touchy subject for her.

“Forgive me my lady that is not what I meant at all; I am sure the majority of them are just fine. As always though, it is the few that would do harm to the many that we must concern ourselves with. The abilities of Templars are more predictable than those of mages. Also it is decidedly harder for demons to take root in a Templar.” Cullen’s tone harbored no ill will and eased Rachel’s mind. 

“That is a point that I can concede Commander.” She finally admitted after a moment, and then snapped her head back to him and pointed her finger at him “And don’t call me “My Lady”, my name is Rachel!”

Leliana chuckled and Josephine took her turn speaking “all this discussion is good to have in advance but right now I’m not sure how much good it will do us. Right now we do not possess the influence to approach either party. The Chantry has denounced us, and you specifically” she gestured to Rachel.

Rachel looked mildly confused for a moment “Not that I am overly surprised but generally I know what I’m being disapproved of for before it becomes public”.

Cullen snorted, “Chancellor Roderick’s doing no doubt”

“Some are calling you, a renegade Free Marcher and known supporter of mages, the Herald of Andraste” Josephine replied.

Rachel’s mouth fell open “Wait that’s actually a thing? What does that even mean?”

“Word travels quickly, especially when people begin to see hope for the first time in a long time” Leliana said softly.

“People saw what you did to the rift at the temple. And many have heard the story of the woman in the first behind you and they believe it was Andraste, delivering you to us as our savior.” Cassandra said, a small amount of pride in her voice.

Rachel stood there agape and speechless. When she tried to speak again she choked of the words and made an awkward strangled noise that brought a worried look to the faces of the advisors. “Make them stop!” She final managed “I am not some divine chosen. None of you can honestly believe this!” She looked around at them and realized with sudden clarity that every single on of them were Andrastian, and that a small part of them may believe.

“Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading-” Leliana continued

“Which we have not,” Cassandra added quickly.

“In the end your story is on the lips of everyone in Thedas.”

“It is quite a title,” Cullen said “Apart from your obvious shock how do you feel about it?”

“I feel like it is going to cause a lot of problems. First of all I haven’t been identified as Andrastian in years, today is the first time I’ve even been in a Chantry in over a decade. Are you all sure we shouldn’t stop this story before it gets out of control?” 

“What the people need right now is hope, a symbol, something to rally behind. You can be that, chosen or not you stand to give the people something to believe in.”

“I won’t stand on a soap box and bold face lie to people. The truth is I don’t know what happened, and I don’t know who pulled me out of the Fade. If people are going to follow us then let them, but let them do it because we warrant following. Not because they believe a lie. There are men and women out there who are volunteering to pick up swords and lay down their lives. They deserve the truth, they deserve to know exactly who and what they are fighting for.” Rachel was suddenly aware that she was leaning heavily on the table; her declaration had been impassioned and for the moment had silenced the discussion. Once the moment had passed Josephine began to speak again. 

“We have received a request from a Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands. She is located at a small refugee camp at the crossroads. She has heard we are offering assistance and has requested our help in driving back the fighting. It seems that the Templars and rouge Mages in the area are at each other’s throats and the fighting is destroying the area.” Josephine’s expression was grim as she shook her head “All this fighting is leaving a swath of corpses, injured, sick and homeless people and the Inquisition doesn’t yet have the coin to do much about it.”

“How long will it take to get troops to the Hinterlands? Not all of them, just enough to secure these crossroads.” Rachel asked pointing to the mark on the map.

“At least a week, perhaps two if the weather doesn’t cooperate.” Cullen replied.

“I can have a troupe of scouts there in a few days” Leliana chimed in.

Rachel considered for a moment before turning to Leliana. “Have a troupe of go on ahead, tonight if possible. Tell them not to engage directly, but if they can drive off stragglers and keep the current number of fighters the same, or lessen them to do so, Mage or Templar I don't care, if they are putting others at risk make them stop. I will follow in a day or so; perhaps Varric or Solas will want to join me.” she turned to Cassandra “you’re welcome to come too, I assume though that the rest of you are going to hold down the fort here yes? The four of us and the scouts should be able to at least secure the crossroads and setup a place to help the wounded until the soldiers arrive to setup more permanent relief.”

“You want to go to the Hinterlands and enter the fighting yourself My Lady?” Josephine asked, her surprise evident.

Rachel chuckled “Something tells me I’m never going to be called by my first name again. Yes, I would prefer to see this place for myself. Besides, there were three rifts here, who knows how many are still out there, I’d rather not risk folks running into one and having no way of shutting it. Besides, I’ve got some training in medicines and healing skills, I might be useful if there are a lot of injured.” Rachel crossed her arms and considered for a moment “Ambassador, if you would be so kind to write to my family and tell them I am alive, I would be grateful. Also I trust you know that the Trevelyan house is an influential one in Ostwick?”

“I was aware of the fact.” Josephine nodded.

“If you address the letter to my father, Ser Richard, request coin from him, enough to build extra shelter and transport for anyone we may need to bring back from the Hinterlands. If the fighting is as bad as it sounds people will be cramming into villages and places not meant to house so many. The last thing the area needs is an outbreak of plague due to poor living conditions. The more we can ease the burden now the better everyone will be later.” Rachel said with a nod “And please, be sure to tell him” she paused, her voice faltering slightly, “Tell him I’m glad he agreed to go home, and let me go to the Conclave alone.” With that Rachel spun on her heel and walked out of the room and the Chantry, so that nobody would see the tears that threated to fall at any moment. It was only once she had ducked behind a building that it even occurred to her that she had just issued orders to the advisors. Not only was she involved in the Inquisition, but she was also taking the lead in it. She let her head fall back against the wood with a dull thunking sound and wondered for the tenth time that day what she had gotten herself into this time around. "Ugh"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no idea if people are actually keeping up with this or not but here it is: another chapter. Rachel discusses heroes with Varric, the Fade with Solas and takes up tent living. She also makes a crude remark that wins her a few points with Harrit and his big bushy mustache.

She found Varric sitting by a fire, watching people bustle to and fro. He waved her over and she took a seat next to him. “So he began” giving her a quick look over “Now that Cassandra the terrifying is out of earshot how are you holding up?” he asked. Rachel didn’t respond, she just turned her head slowly to meet his eyes with a wide-eyed overwhelmed stare that conveyed her state of confused shock. Varric laughed, his raspy voice “I suppose that’s to be expected. You did go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Even the Champion of Kirkwall and the Hero of Ferelden spread that out over more than one day. Seriously though, you seem like a decent sort so I’m going to offer you some advice. For days we’ve been staring at a giant hole in the sky spewing demons and shit all over the place. Heroes are everywhere, I know a few of ‘em, but that hole in the sky right there,“ he pointed to the swirling chasm in the sky, ”That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle, so if you don’t believe you’re that miracle, I suggest running at your first chance. I’ve written enough tragedies to know one coming when I see it.”

Rachel was silent for a few more moments before she responded quietly “I do want to run. I don’t think I’m a miracle, and I’m certainly no swashbuckling swoop in and save the world with panache, finesse and style hero. My fighting is sloppy, learned on the go and mostly defensive. I can count the number of serious fights I’ve been in on two hands, and I can tell you I’ve won fewer than I’ve lost. But there are desperate people here, people who are suffering, and by fate or not I have a means to help them and by my life, or my death, I have to at least try. Isn’t that what being “noble-born” was supposed to be all about to begin with? Protecting the common people who don’t have a means of raising up their own defenses at a moments notice?”

Varric smiled at her “Not a hero huh?”

“I’m not” She said defensively “I don’t want to be famous, I don’t want to save the world, but leaving these people to fend for themselves in the shadow of doom? That isn’t right, not on any level, and I just can’t do it.”

“Fair enough” Varric said finishing the last of his ale and putting his tankard down by his feet.

“Actually I wanted to ask, I’m planning on heading out to the Hinterlands. I hear there is a Chantry Mother who wishes to speak with me. I don’t relish the thought, especially not after meeting with that Roderick fellow. But she’s been helping some of the wounded left in the wake of the Mage and Templar fighting so I’ve agreed to go out and help her as best I can. I’m going to be asking Solas and Cassandra to come with me too; but I was hoping you’d like to join. You and Bianca lay down some mean cover fire.”

“Hey why not” the dwarf shrugged “it beats sitting here in the cold and staring up at the “shadow of doom” as you call it.”

Rachel laughed and told him to start packing, they would leave as soon as she got her new armor. Varric pointed her towards the Apothecary and she set off to obtain some supplies to pack a field bag. She had a long discussion with the Inquisition’s chief Healer Adan, who was pleased to see she had an acceptable, if not extensive, background in the subject of non-magical medicine. He gruffly, but not unpleasantly, supplied her with ample bandages, gauze, sutures, needles, razor sharp scalpels, and several vials and containers of healing herbs, remedies and poultices. He even had a spare medic bag so she wouldn’t have to hunt for one. His apprentice, like her master had been claimed by the war and he had yet to take a new one. If she could prove herself he said he would consider taking her on.

When she exited the Apothecary Solas was outside leaning against a low rock wall. He turned to face her when he heard her footsteps crunch in the snow “Ah” he began “The Herald of Andraste, a blessed heroine sent to save us all” his tone, she was sure, was meant to be neutral but there was a strange note in it, perhaps mockery.

“Oh not you too” Rachel sighed “Tell me, has my initial rescue changed? Was I still pulled out from under a pile of rubble and charred corpses or did I now glamorously ride in on a shining steed?”

“If we are looking into changing the story I would suggest a griffon, sadly they are all extinct which brings the believability of the tale into question.” He responded, the hint of a cheeky smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Rachel snorted “As if accuracy has anything to do with it in the first place. If I’m the Herald of anything it’s poor life choices and demon spewing rifts”.

Solas couldn’t hold in the surprised bark of laughter that escaped him. He regained his composure, “Joke as you will posturing is necessary. Though I am pleased to see the sudden fame has not spoiled your senses.” His face was suddenly serious and he looked off into the distance “I’ve dreamt many times on battlefields and in ruins. I have seen spirits clash together beyond the veil to reenact tales and battles both famous and forgotten. Every great tale, every great war, has its heroes. I am curious what kind you will be” He turned his gaze back to her and tilted his at her surprised expression.

“You fall asleep in the middle of ancient ruins? Isn’t that a bit risky?” Rachel asked hesitantly, as though she were afraid the question would offend him. 

He smiled “I do set wards before I sleep, and if one leaves food out for the giant spiders they a generally content to live and let live. They take my offering and let me walk my dreams in peace.”

“So you can actually control your dreams when you sleep? That is amazing, is it because of your magic?” her tone was beginning to lose some of its hesitance, replaced by curiosity and she set the large bag hanging from her shoulder down gingerly to lean on the wall.

“Most people can learn if they have the discipline unless they are dwarves. Though have magical abilities does make it considerably easier.” Solas replied with a nod “Even then, it is a rare area of study for circle mages. Walking in and studying the Fade's secrets is not flashy like conjuring fire or throwing lightning. It is subtle, a magic of the mind rather than force.” he faced forward again and they stood there side by side leaning with their forearms on the wall “But the thrill of finding a thousand year old memory, unseen, untouched by any other for so long? I would not trade it for anything.” He paused for a moment before pushing back slightly “I will stay then. At least until the breech is sealed.” 

Rachel looked up at him with surprise. “I hadn’t though it was in doubt. Have people here been giving you trouble?”

“I-“ Solas was taken aback slightly by the concern on her face “I am an apostate mage, surrounded by Chantry forces. Seeker Cassandra has been accommodating, but that does not mean I am not cautious, or that others don’t look at me warily as well. If the circles reform I will not be taken with them.”

“No. You won’t be.” Rachel agreed. Solas raised an eyebrow at her and she chuckled “Don’t worry Solas. If people start getting ideas I’ll get you out of here myself. You won’t be the first mage that I’ve broken every law in the book for, and if the circles are reformed, you won’t be the last either.”

“You helped a mage escape the circle?” Solas asked incredulously “Why?”

“Because I-” Rachel began, shifting uncomfortably “I loved him to much to leave him in a cage.” There was a long pause before she spoke again “Varric and I are headed for the Hinterlands, likely tomorrow or the day after to help secure the village at the crossroads. We could use your help if you’re willing to come. I’m a decent hand with stitches, but you seem to know a few healing spells of your own. Things sound bad out there, another pair of hands for the injured can’t hurt. Plus, you know, flashy as they are fireballs are useful when driving off fighting hooligans”.

Solas gave her a crooked smile “It would be my pleasure to accompany you my lady.”

“Oh no. No, not you. For the love of everything please call me Rachel. I beg you.” She implored as she hoisted the bag at her feet up onto her shoulder, the strap resting across her body.

“Very well, Rachel, I will be happy to accompany you.”

She gave him a gracious half bow and headed off towards places unknown. He tested the name on his lips a few more times “Rachel. Rachel Trevelyan. We shall what you become. Rachel”

She was in the process of attempting to find a free tent and was becoming frustrated. They were all full, either of recruits or heartbroken, half frozen refugees. The worst was a single mother with 5 children, her husband had joined the Inquisition as a scout and was currently running a mission for Leliana. One of the children was sick and shivering on a cot. Two were chewing on hard tack, one that couldn’t even walk yet clung to its mother’s shoulder and suckled its thumb and the other came in moments later being carried by Commander Cullen. The boy was crying because he’d accidentally gotten too close to one of the training soldiers and gotten knocked down by an errant shield. His head was cut open and his knee was bruised and swollen. 

“What in the world are soldiers doing training so close to a refugee camp?” Rachel asked angrily as she reached for the boy in the commander’s arms. The mother was hysterical and pleading with him not to throw them out in the snow. “Miss please calm down” Rachel said, her tone entirely different to the woman than the Commander “Nobody is putting you out of the camp. I just want to take a look at his injuries” Then turning to the Commander, this time her voice retained that even quality, “Cullen could you fetch me a lantern so I can see better?” Cullen nodded quickly and disappeared for a moment and returned just as quickly with the lamp. They walked over to a cot and she set the boy on it. It was only when she brushed the hair away from his ears that she realized her was elven. “It is going to be alright Da’len” she said softly “I’m just going to clean you up, you’ll feel better before you know it.”

“Should I fetch Master Adan?” Cullen asked gently.

“If you could inform him of the injury I’m sure he will want to know. I’ll leave it up to him whether he wants to come down. It doesn’t appear that he’s broken anything.” The commander turned to leave “Cullen” she called out and he stopped to turn “I’m sorry I yelled at you. It was uncalled for. Before you go can you tell me where I am supposed to be bunking for the night?” He looked at her confusedly before replying that she was meant to stay in the house she had woken up in. It had been donated to the Inquisition for use by the Herald of Andraste’s use.

Rachel tended to the little elven boy’s cuts and wrapped his sprained knee in a bandage with a mixture of crushed elfroot and wintergreen paste against the skin to reduce swelling and help with pain. Once he was settled and calmed she turned her attention to the girl in the cot across from him. She was running a fever and her cough was thick, deep in her lungs. Adan would need to see to her more carefully in the morning but for now Rachel administered something to fight the fever and begin clearing her lungs. She then took the mother aside. 

“I am one person and you are six, seven including your husband. I will not even be here in a day’s time. It makes not earthly sense for me to have a whole building to myself when I’m not here. Please, take your children and go stay in the house.” She said, voice soft. The elven woman was shocked and stammered a refusal. “Please, you are in the center of a military camp. Two of your children are now unwell. They need a place safer and warmer than this. If the house is mine to do with as I wish, then this is what I wish.” The woman was silent for a moment staring at Rachel and for a moment Rachel dreaded another refusal. Instead she sobbed and wrapped her arms around Rachel’s shoulders. She chattered away in Elvhen faster than Rachel could understand. She’d spent five years traveling in the north and spent one of those with a Dalish clan that she had developed close ties with. She’d picked up enough to be polite but the language was difficult to learn. When a recruit poked his head in to inquired after any trouble Rachel asked him to gather two more and help the woman move her things up to the cabin. The young man was about to protest but she gave him a stern look and moved along without question. The sky was just starting to turn pink by the time the family was safely settled in. Rachel had stuffed what little had been hers in a sack and returned to the tent she had just been at. Nodding at Cassandra who had seen her helping the soldiers cart the family and boxes up into the village just a little while ago she tossed open the flap and entered.

Rachel dropped her sack on a remaining cot and set to unpacking the handful of things she’d been given. A few sets of clothes made of fine silks, likely offered by nobles. She snorted and rolled her eyes, she’d find someone to trade them to for something more sensible, and warmer, soon. The cot had a few thick furs and blankets spread across it; the elven woman had insisted on leaving them for her and the recruits had brought more while they were away. She help up one of the blankets the woman had left behind, it had a series of halla faces woven into it. She traced the outline of one of the creatures, she missed the Dalish, they had been suspicious of her at first, but they eventually warmed to her once she proved herself. She shook the blanket out, folded it carefully and placed it on the foot of the cot. She’d only use it if she must, it was too pretty. She stroked it once more and nodded to herself. Her decision to give up the small building had been the right one. Those children needed warmth and a safe place to play far more than she did. Rachel’s thoughts were interrupted by a soft cough at the entrance of the tent. She turned to see Solas standing in the opening.

“I overheard Commander Cullen telling Adan there was an injured elven boy down here. I came to offer my assistance only to find the child gone. He and his family moved from their tent into a house. The one set aside for the Herald of Andraste. I believe I said that posturing was important did I not? What are people to make of this?” He spoke thoughtfully.

“There were six of them living in here. They are more in need of solid shelter than myself” Rachel responded, her voice flatter than she had intended.

“You are the only person who is able to seal the rifts. A divine symbol and hero sent from above, to those around us who is more important than you? Certainly not a simple family of elven refugees.” Solas replied in a tone that Rachel recognized. She turned to look at him, his face was unreadable, and the tone was the same one she herself had used with Revered Mothers when she had been forced to pay lip service to them. To repeat like a parrot what they demanded. Stroking their ego to make them shut up and leave her alone.

Rachel took a deep breath to steady her voice before replying “A few hours ago you asked me what kind of heroine I would be? The truth is I don’t even know if I really am one. Let me set the record straight, at least between you and me. I don’t, and neither should you, believe for a second that I am any form of chosen one. I have made no such claim, nor will I. My ability to seal the rifts is a mystery lost along with a large amount of my memory.” She couldn’t meet Solas’s eyes anymore; they looked too much like they were digging into her soul. “Until I regain those memories I cannot, and will not make any conclusion. As for relinquishing quarters, it is logical. As you said I have to seal rifts” Rachel gestured towards him “which means I will likely need to travel and search them out. I won’t be here in Haven and there are people who need permanent living space far more than I will”.

“And what of the extra rooms in the Chantry? Surely it is warmer and more comfortable than a tent in the snow” Solas tilted his head and for a moment Rachel swore she could see the ghost of a smile cross his features.

“Warmth and comfort are a matter of perspective. Let’s just say that from my perspective this tent is a palace compared to anything located in spitting distance from a Chantry.” Rachel said, her voice dripped with good-humored disgust at the idea of staying in or near the old building that reeked of incense and tallow candles. Her response brought a warm rumble of laughter forth from Solas’s chest. “My views on the Chantry aside, what brings you here Solas?”  
“Actually I came to assess how genuine your acts of altruism were. It is not often that one declared of divine origin chooses tent living.” He looked off to the side at something that had caught his attention momentarily before looking back at her.

It was Rachel’s turn to chuckle “And do you find my generous nature to be true or a clever forgery?”

Solas returned her grin and reached over to the side, just out of view and brought up in his hand his leather pack. “I have not yet observed enough of it to reach a satisfactory conclusion. I notice however that you seem to have an extra cot; I thought I might follow in your footsteps and surrender my bunk in a warm house for tent space. From here I may study you and ensure that your acts of generosity do not endanger you overmuch.”

“It is not much I fear, but you are ever welcome under the roof of the great Tent of Trevelyan master mage” Rachel said in an imperious tone and bowed so low she nearly lost her balance. The two of them shared a good laugh at the foolery and went about making the tent as comfortable as possible. They scavenged the warmest of the furs and blankets from the unused cots to make their beds. Solas stacked some unused crates and laid a wide board across them to create a table. He made a similar one off in a corner to use for his own research. When he had finished he stepped out of the large tent to investigate the scraping sounds he’d heard. Rachel was using a shovel she had pilfered from somewhere to build a low snow bank around the lower edge of the tent to keep the wind from coming through the gap at the bottom. Solas was just about to speak when the blacksmith strolled down.

“You’re pretty familiar with basic survival tricks for a noble lass” he said in his rough voice.

“Indeed” Solas agreed with a quiet nod. 

Rachel stood up and brushed the snow off her reddened hands before shrugging “I've done my fair share of traveling and most of it wasn't in taverns or luxurious estates. 

“I heard you’d be staying in a tent, wanted to see it with my own two eyes. Thought it was a ridiculous notion, a noble staying in a tent but here you are. Taking up with an apostate elf in a tent.” The blacksmith said shaking his head. 

There were a few gasps to be heard, one from Cassandra who had come up and now stood behind her. Rachel never took her eyes off Harrit but she didn’t need to. She was well aware that everyone was watching her. Rachel couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not because of his giant bushy mustache but she figured she might as well scandalize everyone in earshot a little further. “You caught me Harrit. There’s Orlesian trick I’ve been dying to try since I got to the south that involves a mage, a sturdy dwarf and five silk scarves. One down, two to go.” The recruits hooted with laughter, Solas tried not to smile though the tips of his ears were turning pink. Harrit bellowed and slapped his knee, if he, or anyone else had anything else to say, it died in the laughter. The throng around them dissipated and Solas, Cassandra and Rachel were left alone in the setting sun. Rachel turned to her companions. “When in doubt, poke fun” she said with a shrug “I’m off to find some dinner. Either of you care to join me?” The three companions set off for the village, adding Varric to their group when they passed him on the way to the tavern.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **NOTICE** This chapter includes reference to depression and thoughts of death. You are warned.  
> Also I do not own The Chant of Light (Thank you Bioware and writers!)
> 
> Small preface on this chapter: I was raised in a very religious/spiritual home. I myself have always been conflicted between faith, action and the balance between the two. While I myself am not especially religious, I do have a DEEP respect for people who are. I think that faith, the real kind that doesn't judge others and allows people to be people without it compromising their beliefs, is beautiful and impressive and it is one of the reasons I love Cullen. Despite everything, he doesn't let go of his basic faith in a higher purpose for everyone.
> 
> That being said while Cullen is praying the words in " " are being spoken aloud and the rest are either being acted out or thought in his head.
> 
> Also: Yay for a Cullen/Trevelyan heavy(ish) chapter!

Cullen stripped off his fur mantle and unclasped his armor cleaning it and hanging it carefully on it’s rack closely followed by his weapons. Next were his boots and gloves. He washed his hands and face, changed into a clean linen shirt and breeches and entered the main hall of the chantry. This was his routine, as it had been since he began his training nearly twenty years ago. He chose a candle and incense sticks from the candelabra at the main alter and went to a private alcove that held a shrine to Andraste. He knelt upon the cold stone floor before the unlit shrine and placed his candle in the center to begin his prayer. 

“O Maker, hear my cry:   
Guide me through the blackest nights   
Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked   
Make me to rest in the warmest places. “

The irony of the first verse of prayer was not lost on him. His years in the warmth of Kirkwall had softened him to the chill of the south. Now the stones beneath him sucked the heat from his body as surely as a Templar sucks the mana from a mage. He couldn’t stop a shiver running through him as he lit the first candle.

“O Creator, see me kneel:   
For I walk only where you would bid me   
Stand only in places you have blessed   
Sing only the words you place in my throat”

Was that still true for him? After everything he had seen, after Kinloch Hold, The Gallows, and now this Inquisition did he really walk only in the Maker’s path? Or was it now his own path he walked? He had left the Templar order, and all that went with it. Left his vows, left the life he’d worked for since he was a boy. He twitched as he lit the second candle.

“My Maker, know my heart   
Take from me a life of sorrow   
Lift me from a world of pain   
Judge me worthy of your endless pride”

The shaking was coming harder now, and faster. It replaced the chill he’d felt earlier with a sensation like burning tightness in his limbs. His thoughts began to run together and for a moment he could here screaming. Cullen shook his head hard and wiped the wetness from his eyes. Tears or sweat he wondered? He settled on sweat, he refused to let them be tears tonight. With a shaking hand hit lit the third candle.

“My Creator, judge me whole:   
Find me well within your grace   
Touch me with fire that I be cleansed   
Tell me I have sung to your approval”

Fire like the one eating him from the inside? Was this The Maker’s will? Cullen clenched his abdomen and let out a muffled groan of pain. How far must he go for approval? Why did it matter so much to him when it seemed meaningless to the woman who seemed to be sent as The Maker’s Envoy? She had renounced her own faith years ago, and she was younger than he. What kind of strength, what kind of will must one be born and blessed with that allows them to stand that strong? He thought he heard someone calling to him from a distance but it couldn’t be. His hand, trembling and barely holding still enough to keep the flame upon the incense, lit the fourth candle.

“O Maker, hear my cry:   
Seat me by your side in death   
Make me one within your glory   
And let the world once more see your favor”

Death sounded comforting tonight. He didn’t need to die in battle, blood soaked and glorious. It would be enough in this moment for it to end, quietly, peacefully. It would be enough now to slip off into the unknown lands of the Fade and sit upon the edge of heaven, a quiet end to the constant struggle. For a moment he thought he had; a quiet voice, a soft touch, first on his back, then on his forehead. Calm concern, urging him to stand, to go rise up and go to bed. Something about sickness and healers; but his prayer was not yet done. It must be finished. He looked up, his eyes cloudy with pain and mind delirious with the heat rushing in his body and saw before him a lady painted gold in candlelight; a helper, a gift from the Maker to help him finish his prayer. She paused and he pleaded with his eyes, and clinging hands. Finally kneeling she rested her hand cool and pale atop his and together they lit the fifth candle.

“For you are the fire at the heart of the world   
And comfort is only yours to give.”

The last lines were Rachel’s to say, the last candle hers to light. Cullen mumbled along and she guided his hand but he was incoherent and had slumped against her. Rachel hadn’t intended to interrupt she had noticed him shaking and when she got closer realized that he was not in a good way. Now she was squished between the wall of the shrine’s alcove and semi-conscious commander. She tried to shift slightly in an effort to remove them from the space ended up with her back pressed against the side wall and the back of the Commander’s head squarely between her breasts, cheek resting on the slightly exposed swell of one of them. Rachel couldn’t help but look ironically up at the statuette of Andraste. “Well at least he prayed first” she told the statue petulantly. Her attention was drawn away by a gran from the commander. The sound was low, almost in audible, but she felt is rumble through his large chest and reverberate into hers. It was a pained sound and Rachel wrapped one arm around his broad shoulder and used the other wipe the sweat from his brow. From this angle she could see the right side of his face. The thin, pale scar that cut through his upper lip, the dark blond scruff that had grown across his jawline over the course of the day. She could feel his hot breath against her chest; feel the heat of his skin coming through his thin shirt to sink into her. She reminded herself that the man was unconscious and delirious, but couldn’t help enjoying the press of his body into her own. The Chantry door opened wide at that moment and Cassandra, Leliana and Josephine walked in. 

“Lady Trevelyan!” Josephine exclaimed, seeing them in such an awkward position bringing a startled tone to her voice.

“The Commander seems to have tired himself with all his praying” Rachel explained calmly “I often told the Revered Mother back home that the Chant was simply too long. See here it’s put the poor man to sleep, I had to finish the thing for him.” Rachel tried to make a joke of it but the three women simply stared, a mix of concern and shock still apparent. “Very well, not funny. In all honesty though, someone should send for Master Adan, Commander Cullen isn’t well, he passed out on me and I am stuck. A little help would be very useful.” Cassandra didn’t waste any time. She had Cullen up and off of Rachel in a few seconds. Together she and Rachel wrangled the unconscious man into his bed. “You will send for Master Adan won’t you Cassandra?” the taller woman nodded solemnly and Rachel went to fetch what she had originally come into the chantry for in the first place. In the back room where the great table with the maps stood, there was a large chest that held within it all the personal affects that Rachel had on her person when she was brought to the dungeon. Among them was her father’s signet ring; he had given to her when they parted in Denerim. It gave her the authority to speak in the name of the family in his stead. It was too large for her finger and she wore it on a sturdy gold chain around her neck. A second necklace, a simple jade pendant at the end of a leather cord, was a gift from a brother long ago and she wore it always. Placing it around her neck as well she felt a little more like herself, as though a piece of home had come to visit her. Her clothing had been all but destroyed but her dagger, a sturdy blade given to her by her second oldest brother Marcus, didn’t even have a nick in the blade. She hooked it onto her belt. And that was all there was. A ring, a necklace and a dagger was all she had left of home in this strange land. She hung her head and felt tears threaten to sting her eyes. When she took a deep breath to try and will them away, the scent she inhaled was distinctly Cullen’s. It reminded her that everyone here was far from home. Everyone here had lost everything, Rachel set her jaw, gathered her legs under her, kissed her jade pendant and walked swiftly from the room, the chantry and out into the night.

Two days later Cassandra, Solas, Varric and Rachel were trudging their way to the Hinterlands. And trudging was a good word for it. The weather was cold with a chance of cold. They had each packed tents of their own but had opted share with one another. They tried pairs at first, halfway through the second night they combined the tents stripped to the bare minimum that their prides would allow, and huddled. By the third night of frigid temperatures they all silently agreed that decency had it’s place and it wasn’t in the cold. Stripped to smalls the four of them, under a mountain of fur and warmth spells finally had a restful night of sleep. When they finally descended the last of the Frostback Mountains they breathed a sigh of relief. Spring had come to the foothills and now ice and snow gave way to grass, wild flowers and rippling brooks. It was an accomplishment all its own. 

“How did Leliana’s scouts manage the Frostbacks in only a few days?” Rachel asked Cassandra as they picked their way down a hill towards the main road that would take them to the Hinterlands.

“They didn’t” She replied “Leliana has people all over, especially out here. The mage stronghold is in Redcliffe so she has had scouts watching a few key locations. Likely she simply sent a few ravens out and had them all report to one area to set up a main camp.”  
“It will be interesting to see what the Inquisition has set up” Solas chimed in from behind “from what I’ve heard of the organization you haven’t had any permanent camps other than Haven”.

“That is true” Cassandra remarked, “We haven’t needed to. Before the conclave we were not official so having such an outpost would have been unwise. Now though, it will be necessary.”

“Speaking of camps” Varric said with a large mock yawn “We should think about setting up one of our own. The Hinterlands must be close, we can make it by tomorrow surely?”

“This is not the Free Marches Varric” Cassandra said annoyed “Ferelden is not so small as Kirkwall. It will take us another two days to reach the Crossroads at least”  
Varric made an exaggeratedly loud sighing noise and muttered about short legs. Rachel was lost in thought. Her memory of events before the explosion were still fuzzy, all the way back to parting with her father at Denerim. Now, in the late afternoon sun, it was like seeing this land all over again. Green grasses as far as the eye could see. Rolling hills, lakes, ponds and rivers glittered in the distance. Dark forests spotted areas of the land, shielding their secrets from all who dared not venture deeper. Mountains rose in the far distance, as well as behind them from where they had just come. There was a rugged beauty here that the Free Marches, for all their warmth and general comfort, lacked. Rachel hadn’t realized she’d stopped moving until Solas inquired if she was okay.

“I’m fine, I was simply admiring the view. There is a rugged beauty to Ferelden that I find I enjoy quite a bit”. She replied, her eyes not leaving the landscape.

“A surprising opinion, most Northerners think it is too muddy and smells of dog” Cassandra responded “If you ever meet King Alistair and Queen Anora I’m sure the two of you will get on very well. They too have a great love of Ferelden.” 

“Dog? Why do people say it smells like dog?” Rachel inquired.

The rest of the afternoon was filled by Varric dramatically recounting the most famous tales of Mabari valor in battle and the great fascination the Ferelden’s had with their war dogs. By the time they did set up camp Rachel had decided that if the Inquisition should ever have need of dogs, they would have Mabaris.  
Dinner was, as it had been the last few nights, quick and cold. Preserved meat and cheese, they would have something more substantial tomorrow but for now nobody cared. Tiredness was in their bones by now. One by one they retired until Cassandra and Rachel were left starting at a dying fire. “Are you well Lady Herald?” Cassandra asked. Rachel gave her a look that could curdle milk and she revised her question “Are you well Rachel?”

“I am fine. I was wondering about the Commander. I didn’t see him before we left, you did call Master Adan for him yes?” Rachel inquired, hoping the dim light would hide the warmth she felt in her cheeks at the thought of Cullen. The memory of him pressed against her still made her shiver. She hadn’t felt a stirring for someone in such a long time.

“I did. I know the Commander well and he has a habit of pushing himself too hard too often. He needed rest that is all. You needn’t concern yourself he will be fine. As for the Cross Roads that is the more pressing matter. We were able to avoid a fight last time, this time we likely will not. We will have to face Templars and Mages alike, will it be a problem?” Cassandra asked pointedly. The real question was there, unspoken and clear as day could she kill both Mages and Templars if it came down to that?

“We shall see won’t we?” Rachel replied. It was the truest response she could muster. She honestly didn’t know; she had never had to kill anyone before. She’d fought off attackers, slavers, drunks, unsavory characters and the like. But to her knowledge none of those people had ever died from injuries sustained from her. She’d knocked them out, wounded them, and incapacitated them, but she had never dealt a killing stroke.

“Remember this” Cassandra said rising and placing a hand on her shoulder “if you do not kill them, they will likely kill you.” With that the warrior walked to her tent and disappeared into the dark. Rachel put out the last of the fire and went to her tent. It felt like hours that she lay there waiting for sleep to take her; and it was only when she closed her eyes and thought back to the heat and weight of a blond ex templar, that she finally drifted off.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel and the gang fight Templars and Rebel Mages and free The Crossroads. Rachel and Solas treat the wounded. Rachel makes a big speech. Cullen shows up with supplies and has dirty thoughts about a certain Lady ;)

The fight for the village at the Crossroads was as bloody as it was fast. Every Inquisition scout in the area had been there to meet the 4-person party. Lead Scout Harding greeted them and explained the situation thoroughly together they totaled just over 50. Cassandra gave the orders and divided the scouts. Harding along with twenty archers and a small contingent of refugees, who volunteered, silently took positions along the ridge above the village. They would offer as much cover fire from above and try to limit sneak attacks as best they could to keep the fighting central.

The rest of the scouts, lightly armored soldiers, would charge in two waves. The first would charge with Seeker Cassandra to force the enemy to tip the first of their hand. The second wave would charge with The Herald, who would be flanked by both Solas and Varric for her personal protection. When Varric asked later Rachel would tell him the worst part was waiting for Cassandra’s signal, everything else was a blur. The fight lasted no more than a few hours. The renegade mages fled east when the second wave flooded onto the battlefield but the Templars stayed until the bitter end. For a horrifying moment it appeared as though the Templars might just have the brute strength to push the Inquisition back out of the Crossroads.

A Templar Captain had separated Rachel from the group and knocked her to the ground with a hard shield bash that sent her own flying. She scooted away as fast as she could and as he raised his sword to strike her she threw up her hands in a panicked defense. Her mark, reacting to the wild flux in her emotions sparked and pulsed violently before unleashing a burst of fade energy that dissolved the upper half of the Templar Captain. The knees of his remaining lower half buckled and fell over spilling what remained of organs at her feet. The battle stopped in that instant, some swords still in the air. It was magic unlike anyone on that field had seen and it stopped them cold. Slowly she stood, panic still racing through her veins, mark still sparking wildly, and pointed her hand toward the next closest Templar. It was a complete bluff on her part but it was effective. He took one step back, then another, then he was running followed by another then they were all running and the Inquisition was giving token chase, shouting, hollering and running them out of the Crossroads for good. Rachel watched them run and tried to ignore the roaring in her ears and the spinning in her head. When she looked back to see where her companions were Solas was just reaching out to steady her as she swayed on her feet. He spoke to her but his words were garbled, as though he were under water. Cassandra was not far behind and she too tried to speak with Rachel, but to no avail. Cassandra and Solas spoke to each other as Solas drew her close to him, she couldn’t help but admire the elven man’s strength. By now he was essentially holding her up, the numbness that had started in her hand shortly after the burst of fade energy had now traveled to her legs. She felt like jelly, completely boneless against his rough spun tunic. With no warning, or at least none she had understood the lithe elf had lifted her fully into his arms and started carrying her back towards the Inquisition camp. Rachel stared at Solas’s profile sleepily and began to doze; she just missed the small, satisfied smile he gave her. The tiny human was proving to be clever in her wielding of this mark. This was proving to be a most interesting adventure, there was little that made an apostate’s heart glow warmer than seeing Templars flee from magic.

Relief efforts began almost immediately after the battle. Fires were put out; the wounded were pulled off the field and prepared for the attentions of healers. The dead were prepared for their last rites. There was a great deal of debate about what should be done with the rebel mages and Templars and which rites they should be given. Because Cassandra outranked all present Chantry members and didn’t want to decide she left it to Rachel to decide as The Herald of Andraste when she woke from her rest. 

Rachel’s head was clearer when her eyes opened and she found herself staring at peaked leather roof of a tent. She rolled to her stomach and pushed herself to her feet slowly, straightening out the long sleeved shirt she wore. Someone had removed her pants, likely for her comfort and she fumbled around for them, the rest of her muscles still slow to wake. She pulled them on and managed to get half her shirt tucked in before giving up on the task and fastening her belt and pulling on her boots. She saw her bag hanging on a peg near the tent flap and slung it across her body as she exited the large shelter, blinking rapidly as the full light of the mid afternoon sun hit her eyes. The small Inquisition camp was almost deserted except for Scout Harding who was concentrating on a map of the local area. Rachel approached the young dwarven woman “Scout Harding right?” she asked.

“The Herald of Andraste,” The brunette said turning her attention to Rachel “I’ve heard the stories, everyone out here has.”

“Any chance you can make them stop?” Rachel groaned, “My name is Rachel, not “Herald” or anything of the like.”

“Stories like that spread faster than wildfire, I wouldn’t waste your breath if I were you.” The scout sighed and nodded to her left “come look at this” the two of them walked towards the edge of the ridge overlooking the village. The place was in shambles; the few houses there were charred and falling down, the crops of the small farms had been withered on stalk and vine from frost spells. Carts were overturned, goods ruined and spoiled by everything from fire to being shot full of arrows and crossbow bolts. Nothing in the village had gone unscathed by the fighting. Despite the state of things the area was full to bursting with people now that the fighting was over. Ragged, destitute, broken people, refugees with nothing left but the clothing on their backs; if it could even be called clothing, by now most of them were in little more than rags. Yet more people seemed to be arriving from every direction as well despite the fullness of the village. “This place is packed to the max, but everyone keeps coming in. They’ve heard how you sent the Templars running like scared kids. Divine Messenger or not, they’re convinced you’ll protect them. We’ve got piles of sick and wounded and packed in like this they’re going to grow in numbers.” Harding turned to face her “My lady I grew up around here, these are good, decent folk. They need help.”

Rachel was still staring down at the crowds of people, she paused before she spoke “Commander Cullen is sending relief forces, they should arrive in a week or so. Until then it is up to us as Inquisition Agents to take care of the people here. Gather the archers who you had on the ridge. Send them out as a hunting party if you haven’t already, first order of business it to make sure these people have enough to eat or drink. I’ll find Cassandra and see if we can get some soldiers to haul water, I have at least one mage with me who can quickly boil and cool the water so it can be consumed. Also I need to address these people. If I can’t get them to stop thinking I’m some divine messenger then maybe I can at least use their belief to benefit them.” She paused to take a breath, realizing she’d been speaking quickly. “Once the Commander’s soldiers arrive we’ll be better suited for holding this place. Your scouts will be able to go back to their duties elsewhere but until now all our efforts need to be here. Nobody but the necessary hunters leaves the perimeter of the village. At some point I need to find a woman named Mother Giselle, but before I do that I’d like to go down and see the wounded and sick. I’m no master healer but I was halfway through my training, I’m better than nothing.”

“Your plan seems sound. There are a few soldiers who could use some character building, well suited for hauling water as well.” Cassandra’s thick Nevarran accent sounded from behind her. Rachel turned quickly to see Cassandra, Solas and Varric standing a few paces behind her and Harding.

“I can also be of help with the wounded” Solas offered his posture stiff, as though he expected to be rejected, it relaxed when Rachel fixed him with a warm smile. He was quick to add “I too am no master physician but I know my fair share of remedies and healing spells for those who will accept them”

“I’ll see about rallying folks together to hear The Herald of Andraste speak” Varric said with a sly grin “I’ll spin a great story behind it for sure”

Rachel breathed a small sigh of relief before turning to Harding “Well it’s not much, but it is a plan”.

“A plan milady” she said reaching out her hand “Is more than we had a few minutes ago” Rachel grasped Harding’s outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake. 

It was many long, hot, loud hours of prodding, poking and cleaning infected wounds, examining the sick and administering remedies before Rachel ever found time to speak with Mother Giselle, despite ending up working alongside her. To Rachel’s surprise, and subsequent unspoken delight the Revered Mother was a skilled healer, unlike the ones back home. In addition to the skills she had she also brought with her apprentices and an entire wagon of fresh supplies, which the Inquisition had all but run out of. Even Solas, who had also been elbow deep in blood, sweat and the tears of their patients, four of which had already lost major limbs, was grateful to see the wagon, even if it brought chantry robed people with it. With the bolstering of healers and apprentices alike the seemingly endless sea of ill and wounded was soon tamed and they were made as comfortable as they could be given their circumstances.

It had gone dark and was while they were washing the blood from their hands and forearms that Mother Giselle finally began to speak to her about something other than tying off this, sewing that or administering a certain amount of an herb to a patient. “You are the one they have been calling The Herald of Andraste no?” she asked, her voice was warm and the thick Orlesian accent rolled gently in it.

Rachel head continued to bob as she scrubbed hard, trying to remove the blood and other fluids from her hands “That is what they say” she said “My name is Rachel Trevelyan, out of Ostwick. I don’t know about the title, I didn’t start it.” She was too tired to get into much else.

“I am pleased to hear it” Mother Giselle said “I am not partial to the prideful, nor the falsely modest. After seeing you today though, I do not believe you to be either.”  
“No? Why not?” Rachel asked focusing now trying to extract dried blood from the crease at her elbow.

“Nobody struck with either pride or false modesty cleans up after the sick and wounded the way you have today. They are content to sew them up and leave the rest for apprentices. They do not bathe them, do not clean them when they cry out because they’ve messed. Today I have seen you do it all.”

Rachel shrugged as she gave up and dried her hands. All of it needed to be done. They’re people whether they need stitching or cleaning they’re still patients, they still need help.”

“That is why, when the time comes, I will help you. Right now we must focus on this, but when we can stop to consider the issues between the Chantry and your Inquisition, you can count on my support.” The revered mother replied. 

“I’m just an agent, it isn’t my Inquisition” Rachel replied. The words had just barely left her mouth when a recruit rounded the corner holding a torch.

“My lady Herald,” he said bowing “The stage is ready for your speech” he then turned on his heel and hurried away. Rachel and Mother Giselle followed him around the corner to see a huge crowd surrounding a stage, upon which stood Varric, Cassandra and Solas. Straight down the middle of the crowd all the scouts not on patrol stood attention, creating an aisle for her to walk down. At the start of the aisle stood scout Harding, holding a folded shirt for Rachel to throw over her blood stained one.

“Not your Inquisition?” Mother Giselle whispered raising an eyebrow. Rachel gave the older, dark skinned woman a miffed look before approaching scout Harding who offered her the shirt. Rachel refused and walked to the makeshift stage, still soaked in the blood of soldiers and refugees. 

When she finally ascended the stairs Varric, Cassandra and Solas were looking at her as if she were crazed for not accepting a new shirt at least. She knew she must look a sight. Blood was still in her hair, splattered on her faced and soaked into her green shirt making it look black in the torchlight. She took a breath, faced the people of the Crossroads, and spoke; her voice, magically amplified by a spell, no doubt cast by Solas.

“Fifty four. That’s how many people died on the healer’s tables today. Some of them were wounded in the fight today. Some of them died from wounds that had been festering for weeks. Another sixty-two never even made it to the tables. They died in the battle to take back this village. Most of them were enemy forces, but seven of them were refugees, ten of them were Inquisition scouts. A total of one hundred and sixteen lives were lost today. The question has been raised to me on what is to be done with their bodies. I give you this answer: Every man, woman or child that has died in this village, on this day, be they renegade mage, templar, refugee or scout is to be given full rites and cremated according to their beliefs. I am not here to judge sins or how these people lived; I am not here to judge them at all. The people who died here, be they ally or enemy, died fighting for something they believed in with all their soul and I will not condemn anyone for that.” Rachel took a breath to calm her racing heart as a murmur went out across the crowd. Cassandra shifted uncomfortably, Varric tried to suppress his nod of approval and Solas’s expression remain blank, though his heart went out to the mages who perished here fighting for their freedom. Harding, who had joined them, had a small, sorrowful smile on her face. She’d known the scouts they’d lost. “The question has also been raised about food. Thanks to the efforts of Lead Scout Harding the team of hunters she pulled together there is food.” Rachel gestured to Harding “And also Seeker Cassandra and her group, as well as Master Solas, have ensured there is enough water to go around this night” an emphatic round of appreciative applause went up for the two vital groups. The leaders of which shifted awkwardly and waved slightly. “There are some out there who would call the Inquisition a holy order, who say that we are making a grab for power at a time when people are at their lowest. I tell you now that when I came on back in Haven I joined no holy order. It is not a holy war I fight. The only badge I wear this” She plucked at her blood stained shirt “The blood on this shirt belongs to your friends and family, your fathers, mother, brothers, sisters, and children. It got here when I stitched their wounds and stemmed the tide of their blood and I wear it with honor. The Inquisition fights not for nobles who hide in their castles, nor empresses on their thrones! We do not fight for a dead Devine no matter how noble her intentions. We fight for no faction, no single country. We fight for you, the people, the ones left homeless, destitute and lost in the wake of someone else’s war!” A raucous round of applause went up, cheers and shouts of approval. Rachel waited for the noise to die down before continuing “As we speak Commander Cullen Rutherford is organizing wagons of troops and supplies back in Haven. They will arrive here within two weeks time, until then we will do our best to protect you but we will need help. All who are capable of fighting, we ask for your support in patrols. If you are a hunter, skilled craftsman or have another trade that can be of use to those here in the village, I urge you to come forward. Speak to one of the people you see on the stage tonight, we will need all the help we can get in the days to come. My final and parting words go to those of you who are leftover from the battle. Some of you are not ours, neither scout nor refugee. We are well aware of this fact, more importantly we do not care. The Inquisition does not draft, nor does it have any intention of doing so. However we do urge you to come forth, especially if you are a mage. We cannot protect you from the fear or anger of others if we do not know who you are. If you choose not to then it is your choice and your choice alone, we are not accountable for any trouble you may encounter. Thank you to all of you and to Varric Tethras” she turned and nodded to Varric “For coming out here in the chill night to listen to me talk. There is a madman back there in Inquisition garb waving a spoon, which tells me that a rationed dinner is ready for all of you. Eat carefully and there should be enough for breakfast as well.” A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd but nobody moved. Cassandra cleared her throat softly and Rachel realized with no small amount of horror they wanted her to say a blessing. She teetered on the edge of panic for a moment before she thought of a perfect escape “Mother Giselle, as the only Revered Mother here would you step forward to say a blessing over the people of The Crossroads?” The shirking of the duty seemed to win her more favor rather than loser her any and Rachel was more than happy to step into the shadows as Mother Giselle took the stage. Supper was a simple, no frills meat stew, and afterwards Rachel and her companions settled in for a rest before beginning the most grueling two weeks they thought they would ever face.

Though there had been plenty of volunteers supplies were scarce and there were simply not enough soldiers to protect all the parties that needed to venture out every day. Stocks were suffering badly when the Commander arrived with his troops and supplies. Rachel had to fight the urge to run up to the golden haired giant and yank him off his horse into a fierce hug when she saw him. He and his men were all smiles as they arrived to cheers and joyous weeping. When the Commander dismounted the cheers turned from wordless joy to chants that oscillated between “Praise the Maker”, “Praise the Inquisition” and “Praise the Herald of Andraste”. 

“I see you haven’t been able to shake the title yet” Cullen chuckled as he shook her hand and smiled, if he hadn’t just dismounted a horse Rachel would have sworn the man was blushing as she returned his smile.

“Not for lack of trying. You are a sight for sore eyes Cullen, I can’t remember the last time I was so happy to see someone!” Rachel replied, finally unable to resist the urge, she changed their handshake into a hug, made slightly awkward by the height difference. Her face ended up pressed awkwardly against his chest plate, but she didn’t care. He hesitated a scant second before returning the hug.

When Rachel finally pulled away he spoke again “We pressed extra hard once we received your last letter. From the sound of the townsfolk it is a good thing we did. It sounds like they were about to start eating each other.”

“I think they were. I don’t know if there is a single refugee left in this part of the Hinterlands that isn’t here, and the number has only grown since we got here.” Rachel said looking up at her Commander, now she was sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her, Cullen was definitely blushing. The two of them stared at each other.

Cullen silently thanked the Maker that Rachel’s cheeks were glowing a bright pink color, because he knew his must be scarlet. He remembered, with stunning clarity considering how far gone he’d been, being softly caressed by her as he lay against her on the floor of the Chantry. He remembered the sweet scent of her skin and silky smooth the little bit of exposed skin had felt against his forehead. She’d been gone by the time he’d regained enough of his senses to venture out of his chamber and he’d imagined a thousand ways seeing her again might go. He found himself staring at her lips, an insane compromise between his mind and eyes to prevent him looking at the spot between her breasts where his head had rested only a few weeks ago. He rubbed his forehead and muttered an apology and some half-assed excuse about being tired from the journey. It was only half a lie, he tried to take comfort in that when she stuttered out an apology and sweetly offered to show him to a tent where he could rest. Not knowing what else to do he nodded in agreement and followed closely behind her, trying to keep his eyes ahead of him and not constantly straying to her swaying hips. He was unsuccessful several times. Finally they arrived at a tent on top of the ridge that over looked the village. “Don’t mind the mess”, she said the setting sun painting her hair a beautiful shade of gold “usually I sleep here, but I have the night shift at the infirmary we’ve got setup and it is all hands of deck with the arrival of the supplies. Sleep well Commander, you’ve earned”. In an instant she was gone and he was in the tent. He groaned aloud, the entire place smelled like her, he felt a specific area in his pants tighten against his will and sighed, it would be a long night.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen considers kissing Rachel. Rachel stitches up Harding. Solas finds out Rachel suffers from nightmares and treats her like a child.

The days passed quickly now that Cullen and his forces had arrived. Their presence calmed people and allowed for proper patrol schedules. With well-rested hunters and well-protected gatherers the stores were replenished and increased in just a few days. Crops were replanted, destroyed buildings were properly rebuilt, and new ones began to crop up. With the roads now safe to travel trade slowly began to trickle in from Redcliffe and other areas that had not been hit quite so hard. The sick began to recover faster and the worst cases were taken back to Haven for care under Master Adan. Not long after that, Rachel received a letter from Josephine saying that the Inquisition had received a very large sum of money in the form an anonymous gift donation from an “unknown benefactor” in the Free Marches. The sum was enough that the Inquisition could now afford to hire more recruits. Rachel was hesitant at first, so many of these people had begun to put down roots; she didn’t want them to feel obligated to join. After discussing it with Cullen, Cassandra, Solas, Varric and Harding though, Rachel decided the best thing to do would be to simply put out a sign that said “Inquisition now accepting new recruits. Paid positions available” and a desk and see what they got in the morning.   
What they got was a massive line. By the end of the day, of the 200 people who initially volunteered 125 joined the Inquisition at The Crossroads. Most of them would be reporting to Haven for training as soldiers, smiths, agents, cooks and whatever else the Inquisition needed. Those who did not have families to make arrangements for would leave with the first wave of extra soldiers and wagons at the end of the week. The second wave was for recruits who had only a spouse and would leave the week after. The third wave, yet another week out, was for recruits with families of four or less. The fourth and final wave, a week after the third would be for families over five and would be the wave that Cullen and the last of his men returned to Haven with. Their hope being that by the end of a month the group of volunteers that had been training to be guards for The Crossroads Village would be ready to protect it on their own. But for now none of that mattered. Right now, all that mattered was the ram.

The ram was quietly browsing on the young saplings as Rachel slowly moved into position. Rachel had been waiting for it to move into position for the last fifteen minutes. She took a deep breath, steadied the bow, and just as she was about to loose the arrow something snapped behind her. The ram bolted and Rachel’s arrow flew off into the forest to land somewhere in the underbrush. “Andraste’s flaming knickers!” she cursed as she whirled around looking to see who’d scared away her kill. It was the Commander. 

“Forgive me My Lady Herald, I came to tell you the recruits have all the meat they need for this trip. Last kill of the day went to Whittle. He’s quite please with himself, waving that ridiculous totem around like a madman he is.” Cullen chuckled at the recollection.

“Excellent. I wasn’t really looking forward to shooting another ram anyway,” Rachel said with a sigh. She was always frustrated when she waited around for nothing, but seeing Cullen’s bright smile and warm eyes was worth the long wait. “The poor dull things never seem to see it coming. It is a shame to go back to The Crossroads so soon though. It’s nice to be away from the clanging of swords and chattering of people for a bit”.  
The Commander looked like he was struggling with something for a moment before finally speaking “The recruits need time to dress and move the haul, if My Lady Herald wishes we could walk back to the hunting party the long way.”

“Alone? Well Commander I’m positively scandalized! Whatever shall I do about my delicate senses?” Rachel said in a terribly faked Orlesian accent and placed her hand against her temple as though she would faint. The two of them laughed at the mockery. “In all seriousness though Cullen, please, call me Rachel, at least when we’re alone. I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to ask.”  
Cullen tucked his head down in a small bow “As you will My Lady”. 

Rachel rolled her eyes and fell into step beside him. He was just over a head taller than her, not that it was surprising. After all so far the only people in the entire Inquisition shorter than her were the dwarves. She happened to glance at the furry cloak attached to his pauldrons and reached out to pet it. To her it made perfect sense, she liked fluffy things; the commander’s cloak was fluffy, it never occurred to her that someone might think it was strange. Cullen stopped and watched her stroke the fur. She looked up at him smiling as though it were the most normal thing in the world. 

In his mind he could see himself turning to face her, cupping her scarred cheek and running his gloved thumb across the pale, jagged flesh beneath her eye. He could almost feel his right arm slid around her until his hand rested in the sensitive dip of her lower back pulling closer to him. It had been so long since he’d even allowed himself to think on his desire for a woman, let alone act. He imagined tilting her face up and pressing his mouth to hers in a fevered kiss. 

Coming back to reality he realized he was slowly reaching out to do just as he had imagined when a loud voice cut through the trees “Commander? Commander Cullen?” Cullen closed his eyes and brought his hand up to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. A young recruit appeared through the brush “Ah, there you are sir! There is a scout here; she’s looking for The Herald. Oh! You’ve found her, excellent!” the young man said bowing to Rachel who’s smile had faltered slightly, she’d noticed the change in Cullen’s demeanor and it led her to wonder. “Ritts! Agent Ritts, she’s over this way!” 

The young woman Rachel had recruited shortly before Cullen had arrived joined the small group “Ah! Lady Trevelyan! Good to see you again! I was delivering some reports and Scout Harding asked me to come find you right quick. Told me you’d be out here, asked me to send the Commander too if I saw him.”

Rachel turned to Cullen, worry creeping into her voice “If Harding has sent for us it must be serious.”

Cullen nodded solemnly “We should get going then” the four of them hurried back to where the hunting party was, Cullen gave orders to Whittle and then he and Rachel were off on their horses back to The Crossroads. They rode hard and quietly back to the ridge camp where they dismounted, one of Harding’s people directed them to the infirmary. Rachel was off running like a shot from a crossbow, followed swiftly by Cullen. Harding was sitting on one of the benches outside while one of the apprentices approached with a bowl of hot water and sutures.

“Don’t touch her!” Rachel bellowed as she came running up “I will do that” she said through gasping breaths. Harding couldn’t help but laugh at Rachel as she told the apprentice to go fetch all kinds of things and fussed over the dwarf. Harding may have been laughing, but her wounds were serious. She’d caught a downward stroke from a blade and the density of her dwarven bones was the only thing that kept her shoulder intact. “Giggle all you want Harding you’re lucky you weren’t split like a Year’s End goose!” Rachel scolded softly as she cleaned the wound with hot water and elfroot. Once the wound was clear she applied a gel made from blood lotus to stop the bleeding and numb the skin around it. Finally she stitched the wound shut using small, careful stitches to minimize scarring, cleaned the wound again and bound it with gauze and linen. Rachel also insisted on cleaning the cut on Harding’s head as well. Once Rachel had fussed enough and settled down Harding was able to tell her what happened. 

“We were trying to get through to horse master Dennett.” Harding explained, “As the Commander was saying the Inquisition needs good mounts. Back when you first arrived I told you I grew up around here, I used to work on Dennett’s farm. He’s got the best horses this side of the Frostbacks but we haven’t heard from him since we arrived in the area. As soon as we got close Templars ambushed us, they were holding up in the area. Most of us got out with just a few injuries; I think mine were the worst. I’m worried though, Dennett lives on that farm with his whole family.”

“We’ll look into it Harding” Rachel promised, “You’ve done your part, go get some sleep. Commander Cullen and I will go find out what Cassandra and the others want to do about this.” Harding seemed satisfied and stated off.

“One more thing” Harding said turning around “When you out there, be careful. Don’t get yourself killed Rachel, there is nobody in Thedas who stitches a wound like you.”  
Rachel smiled and made a mock salute before getting up to stand beside Cullen. “That is one tough scout.” Rachel said watching Harding walk off towards her camp. Cullen smiled and nodded in agreement.   
“She likes you.” He said smiling.

“You think so?” Rachel asked looking up at him hopefully “I hope she does, she is the only one around here who calls me by name. If it was up to everyone else I’d forget what it was.”  
“Rachel” Cullen said suddenly “Your name is Rachel Trevelyan. Nobody here has forgotten that, if we call you something different it is because we respect you too much to call you something simple.”  
“I like simple” Rachel said meeting his warm brown eyes.

“So do I, Rachel.” Cullen replied, “You should wash your hands. I will go and find your companions and meet you back at the ridge camp.  
Rachel washed and made her way back to camp where Harding and the others were waiting. They deliberated for hours on what to do before they finally settled on a decision. Instead of marching with a group large enough to fight a proper battle with either Mages or Templars they would travel small and light. After pouring over the maps of the area they decided to run the ridge that ran along the north edge of Lake Luthias and the south edge of the King’s Road. Once the plan was settled the group retired to their tents with the exception of Solas, who approached Rachel. In her tent “If I may my lady, I would like a word.” His tone was stiff, as though he expected a rebuff. Despite her eyes being heavy with exhaustion and her hands busy with wrangling a boot off her foot Rachel nodded and made a motion for him to take a seat.  
“This area of Fereldan has been home to many apostate mages since the fall of the Kinloch Hold tower a decade ago. Your refusal to approach the apostates in the area for assistance troubles me greatly. Back in Haven you assured me that nobody would put me in a circle; yet would resist even attempting to seek the help of mages in the area.” Solas’s tone was almost as rigid as his posture, as if he were bracing for some horrible bout of backlash.

“You mistake my hesitance Solas. I don’t want to approach the mages because I don’t want them to feel threatened.” The second boot came free and she shook a rock out of it before tossing it off into a corner “get into a fight with a templar and you can have a drink with him again by sundown. Mages are different though. So many of them have locked up and abused that they don’t know whom they can trust. One false move with Mages now may mean we lose any possible alliance with them later down the road. I’d rather avoid them until we have the chance to prove that we can offer them a life an a home, not just another cage.”  
The stiffness in Solas’s body melted away at her words “You would ally with the mages?”

“If it is possible. They may not choose to follow this Inquisition, it is a steep price.” Rachel looked at the palm that bore the mark; the dark green still followed the tracks of her veins down part of her wrist, not having healed completely. She rubbed it absently, it ached deeply, a throbbing that at times travelled almost to her shoulder. “How many of the people here do you think ever thought they’d live to see such days? Days when the sky tears open and hope rests on a foreigner accused of mass murder.”

“But you didn’t do those things” Solas said softly leaning forwards, elbows on his knees, long graceful fingers forming a steeple in front of his mouth “someone else did.”  
“You don’t know that” Rachel said looking at the ground and rubbing her forehead “Hell I don’t even know that. I barely remember arriving at the Conclave, let alone what happened when I got there. I have no memory of any of it. For all I know I could be the culprit. I could be a monster and not know it.”

Solas rose then and moved close to her, tilting her head up so that she met his stormy blue eyes. “Trust me Rachel. I have seen my share of monsters, and you are not one. You have my thanks for clarifying your stance on the issue with the mages. You did not need to, but I will rest much easier knowing that they are not out of your thoughts and plans.”

“I try not to write people off for something so small as magic.” Rachel replied with a yawn “They didn’t choose it, no the people who I have no concern for are those who would damn them for being born different.” Rachel stretched out on her cot. Solas was about to leave when he thought of something more he wanted to say. He turned to speak and saw that she was already fast asleep; she hadn’t even pulled a blanket over herself. He chuckled and shook his head, remembering a time when he too would work himself to such exhaustion that sleep came upon him before he was ready. He took a moment to rearrange her in the small bed and covered her up. Then carefully he lifted her left hand to examine the mark. Her hand was stiff and cool to the touch. He pressed three fingers into the dark center of the mark allowed a gentle pulse of his magic flow into it. Her veins lit up in varying shades of green at different points, none going farther than a quarter or so of the way up her arm. That was a good sign, the seal he had placed on the mark was holding for now. He kept the internal portion of the mark lit with one hand, and with the other traced the outline of it in magic that would only be visible to him when he needed to see it. He would need to keep the seal closely monitored. Rachel whimpered in her sleep and Solas looked up, fearing he’d woken her. She was still fast asleep but he could tell by her knotted brows and the tears streaming from her closed eyes that she was in the throes of a nightmare. He rolled up the sleeves of his tunic and pressed his long fingered hands to the sides of her face and concentrated. 

He was in her mind, and here faceless, nameless suits of armor surrounded her. Their hands were steel talons and their helmets gaping maws of gleaming teeth. Every single one bore the templar sword emblazoned on their chests and she faced them with no weapon or armor. They lunged at once for her and Solas pressed himself into the dream in the shape of a huge, many-eyed, black wolf that dwarfed her massive attackers. The wolf shielded her from the blows of their swords and the tearing of their teeth. Answered their insults and cruel words with feral growl and snaps. When the group pressed another attack the wolf charged them and tore them into bloody ribbons that dissipated into fog. The blood evaporated from the wolf’s coat and he trotted over to where she lay on the ground, silent sobs of terror still wracking her body. In his wolf form Solas nudged her softly with his muzzle until she stood on shaking legs to bury her tear streaked face in his fur, thanking him for not letting them have her again. The wolf encouraged her to walk and side-by-side the two of them went off in search of pleasanter areas of the fade.

Solas pulled back from her dream, leaving her mind with his wolf form as a protector from nightmares. He wiped away the remnants of tears from the corners of her eyes gently, and stood carefully so as not to wake her. “Tel’gela, da’len. Ar inanal nar eraan.” His words were warm and accompanied by a smile as he exited her tent, wondering briefly at her nightmare.  
Rachel woke easy the next morning just before dawn, having slept better than she had in years. She raised her hand to examine the mark, it hurt less this morning. As she swung her legs from under the rough blankets and stretched tired muscles she wondered if the mark had something to do with the strange dream wolf and subsequent good dreams she’d experienced because of it. Rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes she dressed and packed for the journey ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tel’gela, da’len. Ar inanal nar eraan - Do not fear, little one. I am watching your dreams.
> 
> Thanks to @fenxshiral for all his amazing work with Project Elvhen!


End file.
